Shut Up and Love Me
by dreamonloves
Summary: Would you take the risk of falling in love? Lucas wouldn't, and Maya couldn't care less. But maybe that can all change. Told in alternating POVs between Lucas and Maya. Disclaimer: I do not own Girl Meets World or any of the stories or songs mentioned or written out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello again! Or if you have never read my stories before, hi, stranger! Here is my second fanfic, and I warn you: it's a bit angsty. BUT this story has more Riley and Maya friendship~ Yay! Without further ado, we begin the journey of** ** _Shut Up and Love Me._**

Chapter One: Lucas POV

I get off of the plane and move slowly. I stay close to the wall so that people in a rush or simply annoyed with my speed can pass me. New York is notorious for their fast-paced residents, but I don't plan on assimilating to that standard. I don't even want to be here.

I grab my luggage and go through the arrival procedure, which is pointless, considering I'm only seventeen. I'm not even legal yet.

Ma is short, but I notice her small frame jump up and down to find me. I go up to her and drop my bags to hug her. "Hello, Ma."

For a small woman, Ma has the strength of Tombstone the Bull. Her arms wrap around me tightly as she says, "Oh, I've missed you, my boy."

"I've missed you too."

She finally releases me from her grip, and I pick up my bags. She tries to take one from me, but I wave her off because I'm afraid she'll break. Ma leads me to the subway station, and we purchase our tickets then wait because we have ten minutes until the next train arrives. I put down one of my bags and tell her to sit on it.

"Are you sure, Lucas?" she asks.

"I'm positive," I reply. "We still have some time."

Ma smiles at me gratefully and sits down. She moves more smoothly than when she lived in Texas, but she'll never recover fully. I'll never understand why she chose to reside in New York of all places or how she managed to make it this far, but she seems more at peace than when I last saw her four years ago.

The train arrives, and I help Ma stand, all the while picking up my bag again, and we get on the train. There's only one seat left, so I gesture for her to take it. She only thanks me this time, probably because if she doesn't take it as soon as possible, someone else will. New York, everybody.

When we arrive at her - our - apartment, I'm awed by how cozy it is. The mahogany couch is soft and plush; the floor is wooden; and it smells like pumpkin spice.

"How do you like it?" Ma asks about the room, wringing her hands nervously.

I smile reassuringly. "I love it, Ma. It reminds me of you."

She grins. "Let me show you your room."

She leads me down the hall to my bedroom, and the first thing I notice is that there's only a bed, desk, and drawer. The walls are white and bare, and I don't even have a pillow or blanket. I turn to Ma, searching for a way to phrase my question kindly, when she just laughs. She says, "I wasn't sure what exactly you wanted for your room, so I thought we could go shopping together for what ever you want."

"Well, a blanket is a start," I half-joke.

She laughs again. "And paint?"

"And paint," I agree.

When we come back from the store, I have blue everything. Blue pillows, blue bed sheets, a blue blanket, a blue lamp - I think I may have an obsession. I push aside the bed and set old newspapers on the floor to start painting the walls in a dark blue. Ma wanted to help, but she has already done so much that I didn't want her to overwork herself.

By the time I finish, it's time for dinner. Ma made my favorite meal (Sloppy Joe), and I grin at her because she actually remembered.

"So how have you been, Lucas?" she asks as we settle into our seats across from each other.

"Other than getting expelled from my school, I've been great," I answer.

She winces. Yes, I know I could have found better words for my response, but I'm slightly bitter, to be honest. "Sorry," she says when I should be the one apologizing. "That was a bad question."

I shake my head. "No, that was my fault. It was a valid question; I was just being rude. I'm sorry, Ma."

"It's okay. Although, I have to admit I am curious as to why you were expelled," she says, biting her lip.

I stop chewing. "He didn't tell you?" He being my pa, of course. I don't like addressing him if I don't need to.

She shakes her head solemnly. "He seemed...somewhat angry when I asked."

"Oh, okay, um, well..." I stutter over my words as I try to explain without frustrating Ma. I don't want her to worry about how I will behave. "I have this friend, Zay, and he got into some trouble with the school's biggest jerk, so I bailed him out."

She knits her eyebrows. "Zay doesn't sound like a good friend."

I laugh. "No, he is actually great. He just has a huge mouth and doesn't know when to shut up."

"So he isn't a bad influence?" Ma asks warily.

"Nope. If anything, I'm the bad influence."

"Nonsense. You're a good kid, Lucas. You just have a bit of a temper."

I grip my burger, Sloppy Joe slipping out of the buns. I hate my temper. It reminds me of all that I don't want to be. "Just like Pa," I mutter.

Ma reaches her hand across the table, and I look up to meet warm but fierce eyes. "Now, Lucas. I assure you that you are nothing like that man. Your heart is golden whether you believe it or not."

I stare at her. Ma is a sincere and strong woman, but I forget how strong her spirit truly is. I really should give her more credit. But for now, I smile and say, "Thanks, Ma."

I may hate having to move to New York, but I sure love my ma.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Maya POV

I wake up, brush my teeth, and make my own breakfast in a quiet apartment. Mom's already at work as she always is. I don't ever see her except for when she comes home to tell me to sleep, but I can't complain because she's the one earning the income. I tried getting a job, but she told me to focus on school and friends. I just wish I could do more.

I head out to the Matthews' home to pick Riley up. I get there at exactly seven and open the door that's always unlocked for me. As much as I love that, I can't help but feel I'm indirectly putting them in danger.

"Morning, Matthews," I greet the family. They're eating together at the table, and like every other time, I ignore the pang of wanting to sit with my mother, push away the daydreams of morning conversations with warm breakfast.

Riley looks away from her family to me. "Time to go?"

"Yep," I reply. Then to everyone else: "See you guys after school."

"We know, woman," Auggie says.

Topanga gives Auggie a pointed glare and says, "See you later, Maya."

Riley kisses her parent's cheeks and hugs her brother. "Bye!" she yells as she closes the door.

When we get to the subway, we have five minutes before the train comes, and I notice a guy playing on a trashcan. I poke Riley and point at him, and she grins and nods her head enthusiastically. I go up to the dude and say, "Got a beat I can dance to?"

"He flashes me a wide grin. "What kind of beat?"

"Surprise me."

He gets a glint in his eyes and starts playing. I close my eyes and let my body take over. I'm the only one on this planet, the only one moving, the only one with a heartbeat. Art, not just dance, has this effect on me. Riley says she loves me most like this, loves me most when I'm the rawest form of myself.

Riley shouts, "Maya!" and I jump. The train is here, and I thank the guy and sprint to get on board.

"No problem," I hear him call out as the doors slide shut.

. . .

Riley and I walk into the school like we own the place - well, I do. Riley is too busy trying to not trip on her own feet. Besides, she's not arrogant enough to do so.

I pass by a couple of freshmen and smile to myself. It feels like just yesterday, Riley, Farkle, and I were their age, wondering how to fit into this new world. Now we're juniors and ready for anything.

We walk to our lockers to greet Farkle who is jumping like a rabid rabbit. As Riley and I decorate our lockers, she asks him, "Why are you so excited?"

"Junior year is the year I can show the level of my genius, that's what." He seems to relax when someone finally asks him what's up. I roll my eyes because I should have expected that kind of answer from him.

"Do you know where you're applying to?" Riley says rhetorically. The girl with the golden heart is just entertaining Farkle.

"All the Ivy League schools possible," he replies anyways, like it's new information.

"What about you, Maya?" Riley turns to me expectantly. She's been trying to convince me to attend college, but I still don't know if I have enough money to pay for tuition.

I shrug. "Anywhere with an art scholarship," I offer.

She beams. "Great! I'll help you research."

I sigh. What have I gotten myself into?

Then I hear giggling girls coming our way, and I groan and hide behind my two friends. I hate groups of girls laughing and talking amongst themselves because it feels like they're judging others and acting as if they're better than everyone else.

"Did you see the color of his eyes?"

"I did! And those cheekbones."

"Oh. Em. Gee. Yes."

I shiver as they giggle again.

Farkle furrows his eyebrows. "What was that about?"

"Does it matter?" I respond.

"Curiosity is the door to learning," Riley says.

"That explains a lot about me."

The bell rings, and as we start to go to homeroom, Riley turns around to tell Farkle and me something, but as she begins, she slams into someone's chest.

"Oof!"

She stumbles backward, but the person she bumped into catches her before she falls. He lets go of her when he knows she can stand on her own and says in a clear voice. "I'm sorry."

Judging by the way Riley forgets what she was planning to say, I think she notices the same time I do. The sea-foam green eyes that pull you in. The confident way he holds himself. The calming effect he has. She's speechless, but I'm not. Guys, especially this kind, are dangerous.

"It's fine," I say for Riley. "You new here?"

The guy was watching Riley as he waited for her response, but when I speak, he turns to me. His sea-foam eyes acknowledge me, and he says, "Yeah. I was just trying to find my first class. I got lost."

I laugh. "I can't blame you. This school had a stupid architect. Let me see your schedule."

The guy hands the paper to me, and I look down at it. I snicker because "you have the same class as us."

"So I was going in the wrong direction," he concludes. He's not embarrassed. In fact, I think he's chuckling at himself.

"Most definitely," Farkle interrupts, probably noticing the change in atmosphere from the guy's presence. "Did you have the paper upside down?"

"Shut up, Farkle," I say to him. "There's not even a map on it." Then I turn back to the guy. "I'll show you the way."

He smiles, and I think I hear Riley whimper. She hasn't stopped staring at him. He says, "That'd be great. Thanks."

We start walking, and the guy says, "I never got your name."

"I'm Maya. You don't look me in the eye. The stuttering girl is Riley, and the awkward guy is Farkle."

" _Farkle?"_

I laugh. "Yeah, weird name for a weird guy. But you'll learn to love him."

"I'll take your word for it," he says with what is undeniably a sexy smirk.

"I guess we know what the girls were talking about," Farkle mutters, and Riley finally finds her voice.

"Yeah," she breathes out.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Warning: Every time I integrate an English class into my story, I may talk about a topic with arguments you don't agree with.**

Chapter Three: Lucas POV

The blonde, the brunette, and the Farkle lead me to homeroom. We take our seats right as the bell rings with Farkle behind Riley, Maya across from her, and me behind Maya. Somehow, this arrangement puts me at ease, like I'm supposed to be in this spot, which is stupid because I just met the people around me.

After the Pledge of Allegiance, Maya turns around to me. "Let me see your schedule again," she says, and I do. "Okay, you have second period with Farkle, fourth period with me, and sixth period with all of us. That should mean that you shouldn't get lost, New Kid."

I frown. "My name is Lucas."

"I love it," Riley says softly but excitedly.

I turn to her and smile. "Thanks."

She sighs happily.

"Well, I'm not good with names," Maya says.

I furrow my eyebrows. "You call your friends by their names."

"No, I call Riley 'Riles' or 'Honey,' and Farkle is already a nickname."

"So you're going to call me 'New Kid' for the rest of my life?"

"Whoa, don't jump to conclusions so quickly. I never said that. But that is your name until something better comes along."

I shiver. I can already tell that Maya can be either a wildfire or a campfire depending on which button someone pushes. "Why do I get the feeling that something better really isn't?"

She grins, and I can't help but notice how beautiful she is. Her blonde hair falls down her back in messy curls; her lightning blue eyes reach for my soul; her full lips are kissable - that is if I wanted to kiss her. Which I don't. I swore I would never fall in love after what happened to Ma.

Maya says, "You learn fast, New Kid."

I sigh and shake my head, but as I stare at the desk, I'm smiling.

. . .

Farkle and I have Calculus BC together, and he does _not_ seem happy about that. I clear my throat awkwardly. "Um, should I go somewhere else?"

He doesn't answer my question. Instead he says, "How is it possible you're pretty _and_ smart? What? Next you're going to tell me you're athletic too?"

I frown, but I don't respond, unsure how to do so without offending him.

"Oh, God," he says, burying his face in his hands. He brings his head back up. "What sport?"

"Baseball and football," I reply hesitantly.

" _Two?_ "

"Yes... May I ask what the issue is?"

"The problem is that you're going to take my girls away from me; that's what!"

My fists clench when he calls his friends "his girls." People are not property, and claiming them seems so inhumane to me. But I don't think he means any harm, and I don't want to get kicked out on the first day of school, so I take a deep breath to calm myself and remind myself that no other relative of mine will accept me. I say smoothly, "Your girls?"

Farkle puffs out his chest. "I've loved Maya and Riley since the first grade."

Why is he so proud of feeling? Is this guy a player? "Both of them?" I ask.

"Yep! They're polar opposites, but that's why it's so hard to choose! You have Riley: sweet, innocent Sun. Then you have Maya: outspoken, rebellious Moon. Tell me, which one would you pick?"

I want to tell him I would pick neither, but I think Farkle would attack me if I did, so I say, "I thought you didn't want me to be with either of them."

"That was before I realized you could help me choose."

"Farkle, you told me that you would prefer if I didn't just a moment ago."

He shrugs. "I figured it out in the heat of the moment."

I sigh, conflicted between saluting him for his wits or punching him for his ridiculous behavior. I hope Maya is right about learning to love this guy. "Well, unfortunately - or fortunately, I'm still confused - for you, I'm not attracted to either of them in that way."

" _What?_ How can you not be?"

I look back down at my paper. "Love is something I would prefer to stay out of."

Farkle drops his jaw then shakes his head in disbelief. "You sound just like Maya."

I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what I could have in common with her. "How?"

"She doesn't believe in love. Her experience with it isn't so pretty, so I can't blame her." Then he smiles at me sheepishly, probably because he realized he told me too much, but I don't think he's said enough.

I frown and ask a safer question. "Doesn't that tell you who you should pick?"

He laughs and responds, "You would think so, but it hasn't happened in the ten years I have felt this way." Then he smiles wistfully, and I wonder what it's like to look at someone like they're gold.

. . .

The class I have with Maya is English. She walked in (barely on time) and flopped down next to me, and now, she bends over her desk, writing furiously. To be honest, I didn't expect Maya to do much, but she's scaring me with how intensely she's working. How much does she have to say about schools?

Fifteen minutes before the bell rings, our teacher tells us to drop our pencils, get with a partner, and share what we wrote. I turn to Maya tentatively, and she turns to me, figuring out I didn't know anyone else in the room. Or maybe _she_ just didn't have anyone else to talk to.

"So...," I begin. "What did you write?"

She raises her eyebrow. "You really want me to go first, New Kid?"

Something about her demeanor tells me I don't. I gulp. How is it that I can get expelled but still be afraid of a small ball of fire? "Uh, well, I guess not then." I clear my throat. "I said that schools don't do enough to stop bullying."

Her face remains blank as she says, "Is that all?"

"Er, no. I expanded on it."

She looks at me expectantly.

"My friend, Zay, back in Texas - "

"Texas?" she says with a smirk, finally giving an emotion, though one that confuses me.

I frown. "Yeah, so he - "

"There's a well of nicknames from that."

"From Texas?"

"From you being from Texas, Cowboy."

Oh, God. What did I do to deserve this treatment? Wait - never mind. There's no need to answer that, Sir. " _Anyway_ , Zay has a big mouth, and he gets into a lot of trouble, but I blame those who couldn't keep their hands to themselves more. Violence shouldn't be the answer - " (unless you're counteracting a violent act...) - "but my school thought otherwise. Zay often gets suspended."

Her left eye twitches, and I'm surprised and proud that she's interested in what I have to say. "That's bullshit."

I shrug. "Yeah, well. What did you put?"

She cracks her knuckles and smirks. "You ready for this, Hee Haw?"

I shake my head. "Just do it."

"What kind of student do I look like to you?"

I grimace because this seems like a serious question. "You really want to know?"

"You're going to prove my point if you tell me the truth, so yeah."

"You seem like a straight D student."

She grins. "Good job, Hopalong! You're right."

I wait for a few seconds for her to continue until I realize she wants me to ask her to. "How exactly does this prove your point?"

"I know I'm part of the reason as to why I have bad grades, but the cause of it isn't so simple. I don't have anyone to help me; I have to work; I get home at eleven; and I need to fucking sleep. Needless to say, I don't have time to study, but the school blames _only_ me, so towards the end of every semester, they call me to the office to get the same lecture without hearing _my_ side of the story. They just tell me to agree and to go after I do, which, of course, I do half-sincerely."

A part of me thinks she's telling the truth, but the majority of my mind thinks she's just lying. "Can't you get a tutor or ask a teacher for help?"

She glares at me pointedly. "Huckleberry, I start work at four. I don't have time to get help if I want to arrive to my job on time."

"Do you have to work?"

"If I want a home, yeah."

"Don't your parents have jobs?"

"I don't have a dad, and my mom can't get one decent enough to pay for the bills on her own."

I frown. Maya has Pa Problems too? I surreptitiously study her, trying to picture what her life is like and see if it's similar to mine. But I guess I'm not as sneaky as I think I am.

"You know, guys are usually a little more discreet when they check me out."

Maya just _had_ to be confident and beautiful. "I'm not checking you out."

She snorts. "You were staring."

"For other reasons."  
She crosses her arms. "Enlighten me."

"You wouldn't appreciate it."

Now it's her turn to study me. I don't know what she's looking for, but when she finds it, she simply nods. I take the fact that she doesn't hit or yell at me as a good sign.

. . .

Sixth period, the class I have with all of them, is history. When I arrive at the classroom, the trio is already there.

"'Sup, Ranger Rick," Maya says.

"Hi," Riley greets dreamily.

"I will end you," Farkle growls.

"Who are you?" Mr. Matthews, the teacher, questions.

"I'm Lucas Friar," I answer, holding out my hand.

"Ah, the new student," he says, shaking my hand. "Why don't you take the seat behind Maya?"

"Thank you, Sir."

Maya laughs. "So Southern mannerisms aren't a myth."

I smirk. "They most certainly aren't, ma'am," I say, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat.

She rolls her eyes at that, and I radiate pride from figuring out her game.

Riley turns to me. "I like that you have manners."

I smile at her, and she looks giddy. Then Mr. Matthews appears in front of me. "Hey? Mr. Friar? Yeah, I'm Riley's father. Can you not distract my daughter, especially in my own classroom?"

"Daddy!" Riley protests.

I find it strange that Riley's pa is her teacher, but I appreciate and envy the fact that he worries. "It's okay, Riley," I say. "He's right."

"Plus, Huckleberry here isn't making a good first impression," Maya adds helpfully.

"Ha!" Farkle...says? "Pretty Boy is a Huckleberry." Pretty Boy? How many nicknames can a person receive in one day? I honestly lost count.

"GUYS," Mr. Matthews interrupts. "Can I teach now?"

"Life lessons or history, Matthews?" Maya sasses.

"Why can they not be both?"  
 _How_ can _they be both?_ I want to ask, but I doubt he would appreciate me ever opening my mouth again.

Maya gestures for Mr. Matthews to continue. "Show us what you got then, Matthews."

"The Great Awakening," he begins. "Old Lights versus New Lights. Old Lights believed in educational sermons and were skeptical of New Lights who believed that emotional sermons were more powerful. What about you? What do you think? Head or heart?"

"I follow my heart. It gets me into trouble," Maya says, slumping into her chair.

"My mind tells me to do what's right," Riley says with her back straight and hands folded.

"Both," Farkle says. "You need a balance."

"And why do you need a balance?" Mr. Matthews asks.

"The heart is naive," I reply, finding the lack of raising hands strange. "And the head is conservative. Like people say, opposites attract, and the heart and the head need each other to make rational and empathetic decisions."

Mr. Matthews seems impressed. "Mr. Friar may not be so bad for my daughter after all."

Seriously, when will people understand that I'm not interested in romance? "...Thank you, Sir?"

He frowns. "Don't get any ideas."

I put my hands up to protect myself. "I'm not!"

"So Riles isn't good enough for you," Maya says, and Riley looks terrified of this accusation.

I sigh and let my head fall into my hands. Why is everyone in New York so difficult?

Maya laughs. "There's no way of getting out of this one, Sundance."

No, there really isn't.

. . .

Zay and I Skype when I get home, and after he tells me about his plot to "woo Vanessa," he asks me how New York is.

"It's extremely cold," I answer flatly.

"Yo, I meant more than that. Like, how's your ma? How's the apartment? How's your school, your peeps?"

"Ma's great. She actually has the decency to ask me how my day was and to supervise me."

"Go, Ma!" Zay says and raises a fist into the air. He drops his hand. "Tell her I say howdy."

I chuckle. "Will do. And the apartments is nice. It's calm, and it smells like Ma's pumpkin pie."

"Lucas, you're going to make me hungry," Zay complains.

"Good," I say with a smirk. "As for the school, it has an awful layout, but it has interesting people and classes. My history class is also like philosophy, and I kind of became part of this group with a loyal genius, a pretty brunette, and a blonde beauty."

Zay wiggles his eyebrows, and I realize my mistake. "Oh, a blond beauty, eh? _The_ Lucas Friar is finally falling for someone?"

"Shut up, Zay," I say, ignoring the blush starting to paint my cheeks. "I just noticed she was pretty. Besides, she doesn't believe in love, and she makes of me _all of the time_. Do you know what she calls me? Cowboy, Huckleberry, Ranger Rick, and I have no doubt she's going to make more. I'm from Texas, but I'm not the stereotypical Texan."

"You did ride on Tombstone."

"For the family name!" I realize I just proved his point, so I bury my face in my palms and shake my head, letting out a groan of frustration. "Maya can never know about that."

"Blonde Beauty's name is Maya," he singsongs. "Okay, you're on a first name basis; that's good."

"Zay," I warn.

"You can't get me from there, so I'm enjoying this as much as I can, and can I say that I am _loving_ this."

"I can hang up on you."

"C'mon. You love me."

I shake my head but smile anyway. "Yeah, buddy. I do."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, lovelies! Sorry for the late post. I've had a pretty bad headache since last week, but I'll push through for an update!**

Chapter 4: Maya POV

In the subway, Riley buzzes with energy. Every time the train lurches, she falls forward, and I have to catch her, which isn't easy to do with my pint-sized body. After the fifth time, I finally ask. "Okay, what's going on with you?"

"I'm so excited!" she squeals, earning a few irritated glances. I shrug to them apologetically and roll my eyes at Riley. "I see that. I mean for what?"

"Lucas," she says, no longer seeing me. Then after whatever goes through her mind passes, she focuses back on me. "Maya, you have to teach me how to flirt."

"Oh, Honey, first you need to actually talk to him."

"I do!"

I look at her pointedly. "No, you mumble to yourself, and he happens to hear you." I would say he has good hearing, but Riley is pretty loud.

She pouts. "It still counts as a conversation."

I sigh, letting go of that petty argument and moving on to a new one. "Besides, I don't think Matthews would appreciate me teaching you how to flirt."

"…He doesn't have to know…"

I gasp and place my hand over my heart melodramatically. " _The_ Riley Matthews would keep a secret from her daddy?"

She ignores my joke. "Please, Peaches?"

I purse my lips. "Fine. We'll make a compromise. I'll tell you what you're doing wrong when you talk to Lucas."

"Yaaaaayyy," she says with a wide grin.

. . .

I leave Farkle with Riley and hunt for Lucas. I swear, for a tall guy like him, he is sure hard to find. With the popular kids? Nope. With the athletic group? No siree. With the nerds? Oh, they wish.

Finally, I find him alone on a bench outside. He looks so lonely, staring at the ground as if contemplating over something foreign to everyone else. Every time I look at him, I wonder what happened to him. He has this way of carrying himself that reassures people, but it comes from a compassion that can only be found through experience and empathy.

I approach him with my hands in my pocket. "Fine morning, ain't it, Ranger Rick?" I greet.

He looks up, momentarily unfocused, but when he sees me, he smirks, and I feel a little relieved. I've known him for less than a day, and I'm already protective over him, though he seems like he can take care of himself better than Farkle or Riley. "It sure is, ma'am," he replies with a tip of an imaginary hat.

"Ugh, you're so lame," I say, crossing my arms. "I didn't come here to do-si-do, Hopalong."

"Then what did you come here for?" he asks and straightens his posture. He seems genuinely interested, and I smile, pleased with myself.

"It's your lucky day. I've come to recruit you to my group of friends."

He knits his eyebrows. "I thought we were already acquainted."

"Well, if that were the case, you would be with us at this moment, now wouldn't you?"

"I suppose," he says and gets up.

As we head back to where Riley and Farkle are, I say, "You know, I thought people would have asked you to be their friend by now."

He shrugs. "They did, but I don't like being in cliques. There's no dynamic. Everyone's the same, and there's no way to grow in such a stagnant relationship."

I can't say I'm surprised those words came out of the brooding boy. "People change people," I agree.

He smiles softly at me. "Yeah."

I bump his shoulder with mine. "Don't look at me like I've just said the wisest philosophy ever. I didn't even come up with that; Matthews did."

He nods, impressed. "Smart man."

"Well, he's more than he looks."

"Aren't we all?"

I could respond seriously. I could say I agree, but I can't take being serious for too long. "So you're more than just a Huckleberry?"

"So much more," he answers mysteriously.

I raise my eyebrow, but before I can ask what he means, Riley and Farkle are in view. "HEY," I shout. "I LASSOED IN THE COWBOY."

"Come to choose, Pretty Boy?" Farkle says. I'm confused about what he's talking about, but I approve of the nickname.

"Lucas!" Riley greets with her arm raised up high.

"Hand," I note.

She puts her hand down. "Lucas!" she repeats.

"Grown-up voice," I advise.

"Lucas, hello," she says. There. Perfect.

"Um…hi?" Lucas says, and I laugh at the scene unraveling before me. "Only one hello, Hee Haw? She gave you three."

"Uh, hey. Howdy. I guess."

I shake my head while chuckling. "You're such a Huckleberry."

The bell rings, and we head to homeroom. Lucas walks next to me and says, "I thought everyone's more than he portrays himself to be."

I glance at him. "Yeah, but I don't even know who you are."

His jaw clenches, a sight both sexy and scary. "You'll know in due time."

"Yeah?" I say nonchalantly when, in reality, I'm anything but. "Then until that time comes, why don't you talk to Riley? She's good for people."

He studies me like I uncovered something about him, but I don't know what. Like I said, I don't even know who he is. Finally, he nods and slows his pace so that Riley can catch up to him. Farkle runs up to me as if switching partners. "You're attracted to him." He doesn't even try to phrase it like a question.

My head snaps to him, and I quirk my eyebrow. "What makes you think that?" It may be true, but he doesn't have to know. He doesn't understand that attraction and crush are not the same thing.

"Simple. You're flirting."

"Okay, for one thing, I'm not, and for another, how would you know that?"

"Because I know you, Maya. You don't think I do, or maybe you don't want me to, but either way, I do."

We walk into our homeroom, and before I sit in front of Lucas, Riley pulls me back. "Can we switch?" she whispers into my ear. Except she doesn't know how to whisper, so Lucas looks at us strangely.

"Yeah," I reply then take the seat in front of Farkle.

"Are you stepping back for her?" Farkle asks.

I turn around to face him with a sneer. "No. I'm doing something that will make her happy."

"At the expense of your own happiness?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't like him in that way. Stop making it sound like I love him."

"I didn't say you love him; I'm saying you could."

I sigh. "Why are you telling me this, Farkle? I thought you love me and don't want anyone else to have me."

"That's true, but only sometimes. Most of the time, I love you and want you to be happy."

"And I am, so don't worry about it, Farks. Besides, the other girl you care about is on Cloud Nine right now."

We turn to look at Riley and Lucas. She is speaking dramatically, flailing her arms, and Lucas is chuckling either at what she's saying or what she's doing. Maybe it's both.

"He's good for her," I decide. "I've never seen her this way, so nervous yet so free."

"Yeah," Farkle says. "I guess."

. . .

I groan. "Letters and numbers are not soulmates, and whoever thought they were needs to reevaluate the meaning of life."

"Come on, Maya," Riley chides. "Math is great."

"No, it's not," I counter matter-of-factly. "Why won't the stupid bell just ring already?"

Riley ignores me and continues her work. At some point, I hear her sigh dreamily. "But Lucas and I could be soulmates."

"Whoa, chill out there, Riles. We're just in high school."

"So? My parents were younger than me when they fell in love, and look at them now."

I look down at my desk and trace the engravings carved in the wood. "They're…they're a special case."

"Can't there be more than one?"

I smile at her gently, unsure whether I believe that. "Maybe you're right."

She grins and thankfully moves on to a more teenage topic. "So how were my flirting skills?"

"Oh, Honey, I wouldn't call that flirting. But I think he likes you for you. I saw his face when you were telling him a story."

"What did his face look like?" Riley asks, gripping my arm.

I take her hand off of my bicep, and she doesn't put it back on. When my blood pumps normally again, I reply, "Amused. He's warming up to you."

"Slowly but surely," she says determinedly.

I smile, but I want to warn her of what's at stake. I feel like Lucas needs to love himself before he can love anyone else. At least, that's what I assume after what I saw this morning.

Riley tilts her head to the side. "What's wrong, Peaches?"

I have a tendency to stare at whatever I was looking at last when I get lost in thought. I know this, but I forget Riley is the worst person to become distracted around. She may seem naïve, but she notices more than she lets on. "Nothing," I answer. "Math just bothers me."

Riley believes me, and I kind of feel guilty for that. "I think you just need the right person to help you see otherwise."

"You're the right person for me, yet you can't make me like math."

Riley smiles knowingly, if not mischievously. "I love you, Maya, and I know you love me, but there's room for more people to change you. The Secret of Life, Peaches."

I know what the Secret of Life is, Riles. It just never put a number on how many people would change me.

. . .

Now when people look at Maya Hart, all they see is a care-free rebel. For the most part, they're not wrong. But they ignore my attitude towards things I _do_ like: my friends and art. Art can be subjective, but that just makes art even more influential. For me, art is anything that expresses a point-of-view. This can come from paintings, music, and even words. That's why I love AP Lang so much. They ask for creativity even when arguing. Today's topic: gender discrimination. Lucas and I are actually on the same side, but honestly, I'm only half-surprised. The only reason I kind of am is because he's the only guy on this side. Every other dude refuses to believe sexism exists.

"In 1963, Congress made a law for equal pay," Yogi says.

"And in 1972, they made the Equal Employment Opportunity Act," Charlie adds.

"And in 2016," I say, "stores sold pants without pockets _only to girls_." Then I stand up and slip my hands over the pseudo-pockets. "Look! Not even my _thumb_ can go through the fucking fabric!"

"Maya," Harper says. "Language."

"Sorry," I say then continue. "Gender discrimination doesn't necessarily spring from men needing to express their male dominance. Sometimes, it comes from preying on women's weaknesses. For instance, the only reason females need bags is because society led us to believe we need to wear make-up to be pretty, and all of the products can't fit in our pockets, certainly not now. But still, there are some of us who couldn't care less to bring make-up along with us; we only need our cell phones and money. Then suddenly, we don't have any pockets. I mean serious, before, we had a choice to have a purse. Now it's like we're forced into carrying a bag everywhere just so the economy can prosper or something."

"But aren't bags considered an accessory?" Yogi asks.

"For some," I concede. "But many girls, including me, would still like to be respected enough to have pockets."

"Okay, I'll give you that," Charlie says. "Is there any other argument you have?"

I glare at him. I hear a condescending tone to that question, but before I can open my mouth, Lucas speaks up. "The dress code."

I roll my eyes. "Way to be original, Sundance."

"I'm not talking about just in school. I mean in society in general."

"Society?" Harper asks. "What about society?"

"Showing shoulders is 'scandalous,'" Lucas begins to explain. "Even a _little_ sight of the stomach is 'unacceptable.' Perfectly fitting jeans apparently enhance women's butts too sexually, and heels prevent females from running away. Society enforces a dress code just because men can't control themselves." Lucas spoke in a blur, and he stops suddenly, breathing heavily. His hands grip his desk, and I can see his knuckles turning white, so I place my palm on his cheek and say, "Huckleberry." He looks at me, but I can see images flashing in front of him that aren't me. I think he's replaying all of the memories of whoever said those comments to him. I rub my thumb over his cheek, and he focuses his mind to the present. "Sorry," he mutters. I know he's directing his apology to everyone, but his eyes are only on me. I watch silently, searching for a backstory. I see anger and anguish and wonder what could have happened to him to make him look like he's seen Hell.

. . .

I plop into my seat next to Riley who looks at the door expectantly. I chuckle and shake my head. "You are the epitome of discreet," I say sarcastically.

She faces me quickly. "I'm sorry, Peaches. You know I love you."

I roll my eyes. "Relax, Honey. I'm not jealous."

"I am," Farkle growls.

"You relax, too," I say. "Maybe now you can love only one girl."

He turns to me hopefully. "Are you saying you'll be my wife?"

"No."

"Then I shall continue to sulk," he says, crossing his arms.

Lucas walks in, eyes on the floor. I know he's still worried about what happened in English, so I joke, "No matter how long you stare at your cowboy boots, they won't get any shinier." He looks up and bites his lips nervously, so I add, "Ranger Rick." Then he grins and everything is all right.

He takes his seat behind me, and Riley greets him. "Hi."

He turns to her with a charming smile and replies, "Hey."

That's as far as it gets before the bell rings and Matthews says, "Colonial America."

"What about colonial America, Daddy?" Riley asks.

"Why did many Europeans move to North America?"

Farkle raises his hand, and Matthews calls on him. "In the north, they ran from religious persecution. In the south, they sought economic prosperity."

"And how did the colonists get the land, Farkle?"

"They…they took it from the Native Americans by giving them diseases or making empty promises."

"What's your point, Matthews?" I say. "You always have a point."

"My point is that sometimes we put up a façade to escape and be who we want to be, but that can hurt others, whether you mean to or not. What will you do? Hide so that you won't be judged, or let your mistakes be known so that you can grow?"

Why do I get the feeling this is directed at Lucas? I mean, maybe he doesn't talk about his life very much, but he hasn't been lying about it either. Anyone can see he's not Mr. Perfect. I look up at Matthews. "I'm honest with you all," I say to avert his attention away from Lucas.

He smiles gently. "I know you are. For the most part, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"How are you, Maya?"

I purse my lips and stare at the chalkboard behind him. He already knows the answer to this, but he also knows I'll still lie. I look back at him and go for the line between the truth and the lie. "I'm no different than usual." Then I turn to Rilley because I've had enough of being the center of attention for one day. "How about you, Riles?"

She reaches her hand out for mine, and I accept it. "I'm great, and I'll make sure you are too," she replies.

I know you will, Riles. That is the only thing I am sure of.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Lucas POV

Yesterday's incident keeps playing over and over again in my head. It's been getting harder and harder to control myself, and it makes me scared for the people around me, for the future, for me.

I'm scared _of_ me.

I walk to Maya's locker and she gives me a head nod in acknowledgment. Maya. She's a rather intriguing person. Why isn't she afraid of me? I know that she's a ball of fire, but I expected her to act differently now. I wonder what could have happened to her to make her look like she's seen Hell.

Riley turns to me, and when she waves, I'm afraid her hand will fall off, so I quickly return her greeting. Farkle says, "Hey, Pretty Boy!" I hear neither an angry nor a bitter tone (maybe slightly irritated), so I take that as him warming up to me.

"Hi," I say when I reach them.

"How's your morning been so far, Lucas?" Riley asks.

"It's been good," I say. "I had a good breakfast. How was yours?" I've always been good at small talk, but I've never enjoyed it. I feel as though I have to walk even more carefully than I need to.

"Mine's been great!" Riley replies. "Maya's dancing and singing always makes me happy."

Maya chuckles. "You don't need me for that."

Riley looks appalled. "Of course I do, Peaches. You're my other half."

Maya gives Riley a tight but genuine smile and turns to me. "What about you, Hopalong?" she says, obviously to divert the attention away from her. "Do you have another half?"

I shake my head. "Zay may be my best friend, but I never felt like I needed someone to complete me." I don't think I said anything too pessimistic, but the expression on Riley's face makes me think otherwise. I shrug sheepishly, and Maya hits me. At first, I think it's because of what I said, but then she says, "You have nothing to apologize for, Cowboy."

"At least you're not like me," Farkle says. "You don't love two people at the same time to make you feel like a whole."

All of us simply stare at Farkle, wondering if he feels something that we neither know of nor comprehend. It never occurred to me that he might not be as arrogant as he seems, and that makes me feel guilty. I wonder if it's worse to need someone to be complete, or if it's worse never letting anyone in.

Riley is the first one to speak. "You are amazing as you are, Farkle."

"The Supreme Overlord," Maya adds.

"I wouldn't mind that," Farkle says with a small smile.

"I would," I joke. "You scare me."

He cackles. "Then I have done my job."

Okay, maybe I wasn't completely joking.

. . .

"Lucas?" Farkle says, looking up from his paper.

"Yes?" I respond and finish writing my answer before facing him.

"How are you athletic, pretty, _and_ smart?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Farkle raises his arms up out of irritation. "Oh, don't act like you don't know. You have proof from your grades, sports, and girls."

I frown. "I don't own girls."

"Of course you don't, but I'm sure they would like you to."

"Aaaand I'm ending this conversation."

"Wait - no!" Farkle exclaims, pulling on my arm, and I sigh. "I really want your advice."

"Is this about earlier?" I ask solicitously. I don't want him to feel lesser than he is just because the girls he loves don't love him back in the same way.

"No," he replies. "This is just a Farkle thing. I figured if you can be all of those things, why can't I?"

I purse my lips. I'm not sure whether that is confidence. "Well, I saw a flyer saying that football season is coming up. Want to practice together?"

He frowns uncertainly. "Do you really think I could get on the team? Look at how skinny I am."

"But you seem like you can evade easily. For every weak point, there's a strong one. That's what I believe anyway." And I truly do. I may be choleric, but I'm also loyal. I may be oblivious, but I'm also smart. This is what I do when I'm in bed; I remind myself of why I deserve to be.

"I don't know...," Farkle says softly and looks down at his desk.

"Hey," I say, punching his shoulder lightly. "We can figure it out together. Just focus on math right now, something you love." Instead of the enthusiastic response I expected, I receive a groan. "What did I do this time?" I ask.

"Nothing wrong," he answers. "That's the problem. You're being so nice to someone who is so mean to you. You're Mister _Perfect._ "

I start cracking up because that's far from the truth, but Farkle gazes at me like I'm crazy, so I say, "Wait. You're serious. Farkle, I've done a lot of bad things in my life."

"Such as?" he asks curiously.

"Such as things I would rather not talk about."

"Because we're not close enough?"

I study the boy in front of me carefully, searching for any sign of offense. I don't, and instead I find that I like this guy, so I reply, "We're not close enough for me to know you won't run away from me."

He grins. "I thought you didn't need anyone."

"I don't," I say. "But that doesn't mean I can't want someone to stay."

. . .

Today Harper (I'm still getting used to calling her that) hands us "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," and I'm sure it's a beautiful poem, but I wouldn't know. I don't really see beauty in pining. I much prefer being my own person, moving on my own free will, and I think Maya feels the same way. She shakes her head as she reads with a mixture of a smirk and a grimace painting her features. I remember Farkle told me she doesn't believe in love, but I wonder if it's more the fact that she doesn't _want_ to. I know that's who I am, but I'll never tell anyone that. They would try to guess who I like when the answer is nobody.

After we read the poem, we're supposed to discuss our thoughts on it with our partner. I turn to Maya and say, "You or me first?"

The corner of her lips lifts. "Do you even need to ask, Huckleberry?"

"Nope. Just thought it would be nice to." When she scrunches up her nose at me, I smile then continue. "I think Prufrock needs some friends."

"And why is that, Hee Haw?"

"He's so focused on his unrequited love that he's forgotten what it's like to be happy. Friends tend to make each other happy with their support and compassion."

"I thought you didn't need anyone to complete you."

"Happiness doesn't necessarily mean being whole."

She purses her lips, absorbing what I said. "I half-agree with you on your claim."

"And why is that, Ms. Hart?"

"Sometimes we try to find ourselves in other people."

Maya Hart is sure ambiguous when she wants to be. "What do you mean?"

"We are all drifters waiting to be accepted into a home. When we find no self-worth in ourselves, we search for another who could gives us value, so molding into a group of people will only transfer our dependence."

 _Are you a drifter waiting to be loved?_ I want to ask. I want to know if I'm not as alone as I feel. It's a selfish thought, but I can't control my heart or my mind. My lips begin to form the question, but I stop myself in time and say, "What part do you agree with?"

She looks past me, though I know she doesn't have her gaze on something specific. She replies, "Friends are good at helping us forget."

I stare at her, watch her for any cracks in her walls that show me exactly who she is. What haunts her? What makes her believe what she believes? What does she want to forget? I have a lot of memories I want to lose. Memories of yelling, screaming, breaking... I'm a shard of glass lying on the floor where no one can see. A shard of glass from a delicate sculpture.

"Huckleberry," Maya says softly, placing her hand on mine, and my vision focuses again. I seriously have to work on living in the physical world instead of my brain. I'm so much easier to read than Maya, and that frustrates me because I really want to get to know her. She's not like any other person I've met.

"Hm?" I say.

She bites her lips and takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes for a moment before she continues. "Want to study after school for English together? I don't have work today."

I raise my eyebrows. Is she actually concerned for my well-being? I honestly thought I was just New Kid the Cowboy to her. Either way, I gladly accept her offer. If I'm going to be staying New York for a while, I need to get familiar with the scenery and lifestyle.

"Cool. Just giving you a heads-up: Riley and Farkle will be doing their science project together while we study."

I nod but frown. Is that why she invited me? To avoid feeling left out? I mean, I don't mind, but that doesn't mean I am not slightly disappointed. I don't like feeling like I'm just someone to keep around temporarily.

Maya rolls her eyes. "Relax, Sundance. I actually enjoy your company." She seems sincere, so I revert back to my original conclusion that she worries about if I'm okay, which takes away the small dismay but brings back the confusion. But I don't want to admit to this, so I smile and say, "The feeling is mutual, Ms. Hart."

. . .

Sometimes I wonder if Mr. Matthews is a stalker, like if during his breaks, he checks up on his students. He seems to know everyone's problems without anyone telling him. Perhaps he's just more observant than he seems his is, but I don't understand how someone can be so empathetic.

"Dorthea Dix," he says. "Does anyone know her?"

Farkle raises his hand, and Mr. Matthews calls on him. "She advocated better care of the mentally ill."

"And how were they treated, Farkle?"

"They were blamed for their condition, and because of this, they were tortured."

Mr. Matthews nods solemnly, taking a step back. "And how does that make you feel, class?"

"Furious," Riley replies. "How could they treat human beings any less than they are?"

"Sometimes people don't want to be at fault, Riles," answers Maya. "And sometimes there's no one to point a finger to, so they look for someone to blame."

Mr. Matthews gazes at Maya proudly albeit sympathetically. "Indeed they do." Then he says to everyone, "People are not mistakes. People _make_ mistakes. Don't ever let anyone including yourself, make you think otherwise." He glances at me, and I know he knows about Texas Lucas. The unpredictable, violent, angry Lucas. Sometimes words just aren't enough to make a person believe.

"Well, I still think we should all help each other," Riley says. "People not only change people, but people also help people grow."

"That's my girl," Mr. Matthews says with a small smile. "In fact, you will all be able to do just that. I'm assigning a project. Find someone you don't typically talk to, and ask for their story. See if your opinion of him or her has changed. Find it in your heart to broaden your view and be objective."

The bell rings, and everyone stands to put up their things. Maya finishes before me and tells Farkle and Riley that I'm joining them to go to Topanga's (which I have no idea where or what that is). Farkle looks a little annoyed while Riley squeals with glee. I wonder how someone can be so excited all of the time.

I stand next to Maya, and she says, "You ready to go, Huckleberry?"

"Yeah, but to where exactly?"

She bites her lip mischievously. "Just follow us."

We head to the subway, Farkle and Maya in front of Riley and me. Maya appears to be angry while Farkle seems compassionate. That happens a lot with them.

"So who are you going to do your project on, Lucas?" Riley asks, bringing my attention back to her.

"I don't know yet," I admit. "How about you?"

"There's this homeless man in the train station who I always wanted to talk to but was too scared to. Want to join me?" She wears a resplendent, innocent grin, so even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to decline.

"Sure," I respond. "When do you want to do that?"

"Well, we have enough time before the train arrives, so we can do it now." I notice the word "now," so I look up and see we're already at the station. I forgot how close it was, which is strange because I take the subway every day.

Riley grabs my hand in an iron grip and pulls me forward. Farkle watches us curiously while Maya wears a knowing smile. At first, I think it's directed to me before I notice she's actually watching Riley. Why is she looking at her like that? I turn back to Riley to see her with a determined expression as she stares at the homeless man she wishes to speak to. When we reach him, she sits next to him and says, "Hello. What's your name?"

I was only half paying attention until the man looks up, and I swallow down a gasp. His eyes are like mine: dead and broken and far away. I think a part of him is shocked because it takes him moment to recover before he responds, "T-Thomas."

"Hello, Thomas," Riley says with a grin. "My name is Riley Matthews. I need to understand others more, and I thought I could learn from you."

Thomas sits up straighter, surprised. "From me? What could a hopeless man like me offer a bright girl like you?"

"Well, what is your story?"

Thomas watches Riley for a few seconds, wondering if she's teasing him. When he decides she is serious, he takes a deep breath, and I settle down to listen too. "I am the youngest in a family of three. Naturally, I was the most spoiled. It's not that I expected others to do my work for me; I just thought that life was easier than it actually is. By the time I realized it wasn't, it was too late. Almost no one accepted me as an employee, and those who did didn't keep me for long. Luckily, I never married or had children, so I didn't have to support anyone else or ruin anyone else's life. But for the rest of my life, I'll only have what another is kind enough to give." His eyes stared at the ground forlornly as he spoke, but then he looks back up with a solemn expression. "Kids, if there's anything you can take from me, it's that if you want to succeed, you have to work hard and not hope for a dash of luck."

"Then why did you give up?" Riley asks. She amazes me with how direct she can be.

Thomas' eyes reflect the waves of sadness inside of him as he replies, "Because I don't know how to persevere."

"I don't think that's it," Riley says confidently. "I think it's because you don't believe in yourself, so you didn't try hard enough."

"Well, how can anyone believe in a weak man like me?"

"I can," she says. "I believe in you."

Thomas frowns in disbelief. "Why?"

Riley smiles softly. "Because I believe in those who mean well."

Thomas watches the rare girl before him, and his doubt slowly becomes happiness as a smile slowly spreads across his face. "You have a wonderful future ahead of you, Riley Matthews."

"Thank you. You too, Thomas."

I hear Maya yell, "Riley, the train is here!" so we stand up, and Riley tells the man, "Good luck."

She leaves, and I take a step forward but turn back to say, "I believe in anyone who is wise enough to know to try."

Thomas smiles at me gently. "Thank you."

I nod then sprint into the train right as the doors close. I stand next to Riley and say, "You're one-of-a-kind, Riley Matthews."

She beams, and Maya says, "Way to state the obvious, Ranger Rick."

. . .

"Okay, what's wrong, Hopalong?" asks Maya. "You've been quiet, and you keep mixing your smoothie, which is already mixed, by the way."

I look up to see her with a quirked eyebrow and straw between her teeth, which explains the odd pronunciation. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just thinking."

She takes a big slurp. "About?"

"About Thomas." When she seems confused, I add, "The homeless man."

"Oh. What about him?"

"He's a good guy. He knows how the world works, even if he's scared of it."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you scared of the world?"

"No," I say then drop my gaze to the table. After a few seconds of silence, I think out loud, "Who am I supposed to choose for my project?" What if I'm the person no one understands? Mr. Matthews didn't think of that, didn't realize that I don't know who to talk to because I can't even tell anyone about myself.

Maya gets up and sits next to me instead of across. I know it's to stop my jaw from clenching and to drag my attention back to her. "Anyone you want," she responds.

I look back to her. Her lightning blue eyes are soft yet fierce. She surrounds herself with a wall, yet she finds it in her heart to love. She is small yet strong.

She has a story.

"What about you?" I ask.

For the first time since I've met her, I've taken Maya aback. "Me? Why me?"

I shrug. "I figure I could learn a thing or two from you."

She purses her lips and considers this. "Okay," she says." "But only on the condition that I get to do my project on you."

I don't know why, but I don't hesitate as I say, "Deal."

She sighs. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" I ask.

I expect her to say, "You think you're scary, Huckleberry?" But instead I get "I've seen someone more frightening than you."

"Who?" I'm excited to know more about Maya Hart.

"My dad."

"Why was he more frightening than me?"

"He had a gambling problem, and i never knew when he was going to put my family in debt." Maya plays with a ring on her finger as she speaks. "I never knew if he loved my mother and me enough to protect us."

"Did he?" I know her pa is gone, but I don't know why.

"I don't know," she admits. "He left, and maybe that's why, but maybe there's a different reason."

"Is that why you don't believe in love?"

"Partially," she replies. Her finger starts turning blue.

I take her hand to stop her from hurting herself, and surprisingly, she doesn't protest. "What do you mean?"

She bites her lip, obviously wondering if she should continue. She breathes in deeply and pushes forward. "I once dated Riley's uncle." At my apparent shock, she says, "It's not what it sounds like. He's only three years older than us. Anyway, I went out with him for about a year when I was a freshman, and I think we were relatively happy. But maybe I wasn't enough, or he realized there were better girls in college, and he cheated on me. Riley, me, and his entire family were furious at him for a while, but eventually we forgave him. After all, we can't blame him for feeling what he felt." She brings her eyes to mine. "You said you thought you could learn something from me. Well, here it is: emotions are only the enemy if you don't know what to do with them."

I stare at Maya in awe. She likes to act oblivious, but she knows more about the world than many adults I know. the end of her lip curls upward, and she says, "Is that all, Huckleberry?" When I nod, she brings her legs up on to the seat and faces me completely, readying herself to bombard me with questions. "Describe yourself, Sundance."

I frown, and I have to close my eyes to answer. "Unpredictable. Violent. Temperamental."

She squeezes my hand, and I open my eyes. "What made you that way?"

"What makes you think someone made me this way?" I'm avoiding the question, and I know she knows because she simply waits for an answer. "My pa. He...he's abusive. When he and Ma were still together, he would always hit her, and the only way I could protect her was by fighting back. Eventually, it became a habit to use my fists when someone else did, I guess." I turn away because what I will say next is something I have yet come to terms with. "I learned that violence is the coward's way out."

Maya doesn't say anything, so I face her again. She studies me, so I try to remain as still as possible until she finds what she's searching for. She doesn't take her eyes off of me as she says, "You're not a bad person, Huckleberry. You've just made some mistakes."

My eyes fall to our hands, and for a fleeting second, I wonder why neither of us moves our hand away. "But you don't know what I've done."

"No, but I see who you are."

I look back up. "And who am I?"

"You're an idiot who's too afraid of himself to reach his full potential." It's a backhanded compliment, but I grin anyway. It's enough for me, especially coming from the girl who doesn't readily give out compliments.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm curious to see how many people actually read my story, so please follow or review! Review especially if you have constructive criticism because I would love to grow more as a writer! I honestly disappoint myself with my writing unless I make original characters come to life.**

Chapter 6: Maya POV

Riley stares at the floor of the train, which concerns me. I try giving her space, but I'm not good at staying still when someone I love is in a bad mood. "Riles," I say to grab her attention.

She brings her head up, and I'm slightly relieved when she looks into my eyes instead of somewhere behind me. "Yes, Maya?"

"What's the matter, Honey?"

Her eyes begin to drift away from me, and I reach my hand out to stop her from floating away from the here and the now. She drags her gaze back to mine and asks, "How are you already so close to Lucas?"

I knit my eyebrows. "I'm not," I reply honestly.

She tilts her head. "But you call him nicknames like Huckleberry and Ranger Rick."

I shrug. "I do that because it's fun."

"And you were holding hands yesterday."

I grimace. Yeah, that could be taken the wrong way. "We were comforting each other."

Then she becomes worried, and I realize that that could also be taken the wrong way. "Oh my God, Maya, are you okay?!"

I roll my eyes. "I'm fine, Riles. We just told each other our backstories, and remembering that can be tough."

Now she seems intrigued. "What was his past like?" I fold into myself, and she notices. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

I hesitate before saying, "It's not that I don't want to... I just don't think I have a right to."

She watches me for a while before deciding I'm being candid. "Okay, but I still think you guys are close."

"You can be too, Riles," I say, then put my hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "You just have to show the serious Riley Matthews for him to open up about that stuff."

"You think so?" she asks, more hopeful than she was a few minutes ago.

I grin. "Yeah."

. . .

Lucas and Farkle are already at school, so naturally, I approach Farkle, and Riley talks to Lucas. I say, "So how is the project, Farks? A plus worthy?"

"Of course," he answers easily. "Riley and I are genius scientists."

I raise my eyebrows. "Genius? You're calling someone who isn't you a genius?"

"Maya," he says and gives me stern look. "I may be conceited, but I can admit to another's skills and talents."

"Well now I know."

Farkle turns his head to Riley and Lucas, so I do the same. Riley listens carefully to Lucas who leans against the lockers, looking away from her, and I know he's telling her his secret. The connection between the two makes me happy, not just for Riley, but for Lucas as well. They both deserve the best.

"So what's up with you and Pretty Boy?" Farkle asks.

I sigh. When is he going to let this go? Because if he doesn't soon, I'm going to throttle him. "For the last time, Farkle. _Nothing._ "

"You can't say that when you guys held hands yesterday."

God, I hate his matter-of-fact tone. "We were comforting each other for fuck's sake."

"You only cuss when you get defensive."

"Why wouldn't I be defensive? It's like you want me to like him. It's like you want me to have him, so that Riley can't-." I suddenly stop. I was just spewing out words, but I came to a realization, and I am ninety-nine point nine percent sure I'm right. "You love her. You finally chose."

Farkle furrows his eyebrows in faux confusion, but I caught that moment where he bit his lip in trepidation. "What are you talking about? I just want you to be happy."

"I don't doubt that is one of the things you want, Farkle. But you want her too."

He stares into my eyes, and I don't look away. I challenge him to disagree with me, to tell me I don't know what I'm talking about, but I know he wont win. No matter how hard we try, we can't avoid the truth. Finally, he sighs and drops his gaze to the linoleum floor. "I love you too."

I smile and say softly, "I know you do. Just not the way you love her."

He nods and takes a step closer to me, and I wrap my arms around him. He puts his forehead on my shoulder and says, "You're amazing too, Maya."

I chuckle at his apprehension. "Thank you, but I've always known Riley is better than me."

He shakes his head, ruffling my sleeve. "It's definitely not that. It's just...the more I told Lucas to choose between the two of you, the more I chose. I don't think I could ever be more than your friend, Maya. You and me, we're there for each other in the sibling way. I love you just as much as I love her, but Riley and me...she's not unconditionally supportive like you, but she helps me grow. And as a scientist, I need to keep growing."

"I understand that," I say. "But just because you're afraid of me being alone doesn't mean you have to push me to be with someone else."

He looks up with a creased forehead. "Do you really think that's why I want you to be with Lucas?"

"Well, yeah. I hardly know the dude enough for there to be a more rational cause." Lucas may have told me about his past, but people have too many layers for someone to know them from a single story.

"Feelings aren't rational, Maya. A spark is a spark. It's like you two are drawn to each other for no particular reason."

I take a step back, not from shock, but from the conversation. "We're just friends, Farkle. It's only been three days since we've known him."

"Time has no meaning in this equation," he says and looks at me like I deserved to be pitied for not seeing something so blatant. "It's okay to be scared, Maya."

My blood boils. I have nothing to say to that, and luckily I don't have to because the bell rings. I stomp away from him, past Riley and Lucas, to our homeroom. I don't need anymore of the "Maya's just too scared to love" shit. It's just that I got hurt once, and I don't need another one of those experiences. Plus, I'm perfectly fine with living alone. After all, that's how it is when I get home.

When I arrive at the classroom, I sit in the way back where no one can bother me. I slip on my earphones, take out my sketchbook, and scribble furiously on the paper. I never know what I plan to draw, but my hand always does, so I let it guide me, let it pour out my emotions on the paper before I can process them. Spark, my ass. A guy and a girl can be friends without all the gooey crap. I'm mature enough to handle that kind of friendship. Stupid Farkle. Shit. I broke my pencil, and just as I'm about to grab another one from my bag, someone slides over a perfectly sharpened pencil. I glance up from my paper to see it's Lucas. Honestly, I can't say I'm surprised; this guy almost never surprises me. "Thanks," I mutter then continue to draw. Before I'm too invested, he says, "You know...I noticed you get angry about the things you're passionate about."

"Anger is passion, Ranger Rick," I counter without facing him.

"So you only have angry art."

"Let me clarify for you: anger is passion. Art is passion. But passion is not always anger or art."

He's silent, so I think this conversation is over, but then he says, "You sure have a way with words, Ms. Hart."

"Thanks, Hee Haw."

The bell rings, signaling the end of homeroom, so I get up to gather my things. Lucas tries to help, but I wave him off. "I'm no Southern Belle in need of saving, Cowboy. You can go on and giddy on up out of here."

"No, you most certainly are not a Southern Belle, but I think a short stack of pancakes like you would like some assistance."

I stop putting my stuff back in my backpack and turn to him. I pull him in by the collar roughly so that his eyes are level with mine. "You want to call me that again, Hopalong?"

"I actually think 'Shortstack' suits you," he replies with a small smirk.

I purse my lips. "No one calls me Shortstack."

"Then I'm honored to be the first, ma'am," he says as his smirk broadens.

I almost smile, but I let go of him and leave before I do. There's no need to give Farkle more ammo.

. . .

"Oh my gosh, I think I understand this," I say with a grin at my math homework. After seventeen years of existing, I finally understand something. I would cry if this wasn't such a stupid thing to feel proud over.

"That's great, Peaches," Riley says absentmindedly. She doesn't sound sad, but she sounds distracted.

I turn to her, giving her my full attention. "What's up, Honey?"

"Farkle said something interesting earlier..."

I bite my lip. Fuck. That boy needs to learn when to shut his mouth. "What did he say?"

"Well, he asked me what I liked about Lucas, and when I said I didn't quite know, he said I should think about it because maybe I don't actually like him."

This is what I miss in one conversation. I miss Farkle's meddling. "So then learn more about him. Maybe you don't know why you have a crush on him now, but maybe there's a reason you feel this way, and you'll find out in the future."

"I suppose," she says, tapping her pencil on her lips. Then she faces me. "What if it's you?"

"What if what's me?" This is why English teachers are anal-retentive about antecedents.

"The girl Lucas will love."

Oh my God, not Riley too. Please. "Where did you get that idea from?"

"Well, for one thing, he willingly told you about his past." I open my mouth to argue, but she pushes on forward. "And for another, he sat next to you in homeroom without telling Farkle and me anything. He just went up to you like it was the most natural thing to do. It's like he knew you were in a bad mood; it's like he already _knows_ you."

I liked it better when I didn't know what the antecedent was. "Did Farkle put those thoughts in your mind? Because if he did, I swear, I'm gonna-"

"No, Maya," Riley interrupts with a laugh. "I just noticed, but if you are sure, I'll trust you on this. Besides, right now I'm more worried if you're okay."

I did cause a scene, so I can't blame her for thinking I'm still irritated. "I'm fine," I say. "But I have to admit I'm also curious as to how the conversation with Lucas went."

She brightens up, which I take as a good sign. "He was surprisingly open about Texas Lucas." I cringe when she says Texas Lucas because it seems like she denies that part of him, like it's his alter ego when it's not at all. He's violent, but he's also sweet, and it's so cruel to believe a person can be only one or the other. "He has a golden heart," she continues, smiling at the table. "He'll do whatever it takes to protect the people he loves."

Just because he has a golden heart, it doesn't mean he doesn't wear some scars.

. . .

I had a free period on my schedule, so I figured why not do study hall? I heard it's chill, but it only is if you know how to sneak around the teachers. You can get away with a lot of shit if you master the art of a ninja. Like, people use their phones all the time. The trick is not to look at your phone under the desk but rather on top of. That way the proctors don't look at you long enough to suspect you're not doing your work. But I don't use my phone often; I'm actually a huge eater. I bring small gummy bears with me every day, so the bag doesn't make a sound as I reach in, and I can stuff as many in my mouth as possible. I could probably make better use of my time, but after either hanging out with Riley or working, I really need this down time.

I'm not really alone, and truthfully, if I were, I would probably lose my mind. I have a friend, Brandon, who takes this class for the same reason as me. The only difference between us is the fact that he's strangely obsessed with crossword puzzles. But this goes back to the similarities between us, and this being the fact that although we look like idiots, we actually love using our brains.

"Hey, Hart," he says.

"Yeah?"

"What's a word for friendly?"

"Dude, I can't tell you if you don't tell me how many letters there are."

"Seven."

I tap my chin. If this were anyone else, I would tell them to think about the answer themselves, but Brandon and I have a special relationship. We let ourselves be completely open with each other, and we escape the labels everyone else put on us. I reply, "Affable."

"All right. Thanks, Hart."

And that's how our conversations go. We're not really talkers; we just enjoy each other's company and empathy. To be honest, for a girl who's hidden her feelings for most of her life, that's more than enough for me. But not right now. Because I'm bored.

"Wanna play a game of Hangman?" I ask Brandon.

"Sure," he says. "But I'm on a roll here, so you have to pick the phrase."

Brandon and I don't play Hangman in the typical way. We write song lyrics, and we have to guess what they are. He and I have a broad taste in music, so it's fun when we can stump the other person. It's so rare, and in moments like these, I feel bad for successful people; it's not as entertaining and fulfilling to win.

"I'm ready," I tell him. He looks away from his crossword and studies my paper for a while. After a minute, he says, "Fill my cup."

I sigh. "Why do you always answer mine right away?"

He smirks, and whenever I make him smile or laugh, I feel accomplished. "Because I know you, Hart."

I frown. "I think you just have a way of reading people. You know what they're thinking even before they do. Like, I bet you know what I'm thinking about right now."

He shrugs. "I could guess."

We have this conversation all the time, mostly because I like the fact that he sees how I feel easily, and I don't have to face judgment. I sit as still as I possibly can to make it harder for him to decipher my thoughts. As he watches me intently, I learn from him, learn the way he studies people so I can use the same skills.

"You're worried about your friends because they're in a complicated relationship right now," he says.

He's spot on. Even more so than usual. I raise my eyebrows in astonishment and ask, "How do you know the reason?"

"I watch you guys," he admits, and my forehead creases. I never noticed him standing around the halls, and it's hard to miss someone in a leather jacket with greased hair. He adds, "You're too busy enjoying yourself to see me."

He doesn't sound bitter; his tone rings fact, but I still wonder if he wants more company than he lets on. "You should hang out with us some time instead of being a creeper," I say lightheartedly so that he doesn't feel embarrassed.

"Sure," he says nonchalantly, but I see a ghost of a smile.

. . .

In English, we read the essay "On Morality" by Joan Didion. No one in my class likes it because it's confusing, but I think that's the point. We're not supposed to understand what she's saying because morality is incomprehensible. Didion attempts to teach us that we can't force our beliefs unto another on the basis that we're right, and everyone else is wrong.

Of course, no one else in my class realizes this, so when Harper tells us to discuss the essay, the room is quiet. I raise my hand to interrupt the silence and say, "Morality is subjective."

Harper nods in approval and says, "Please expand on that, Maya."

"Many of us prefer to believe that the code we live by is the right one to abide to, but the truth of the matter is that ethics are so complex that we can't create a concrete, universal set of morals. Therefore, we can't tell someone to believe what we believe because no one is right, and no one is wrong."

"Very good, Maya," Harper appraises with a smile. "But I must say that I'm curious as to what _your_ morals are."

I don't even hesitate to respond, though I know I'll probably get some crap for this. Actually, I think that's why Harper asked me for my morals. I say, "When being right is more important than being friends, that's the end of being friends."

Charlie Gardner asks, "But is that support unconditional?" To be frank, I expected him to be the one to respond.

I open my mouth, and Lucas replies, "Pretty much." I turn to him, about to berate him for answering for me, but I stop when I realize he's not looking at anything or anyone in particular. "Assuming we don't acquaint ourselves with bullies or criminals," he adds.

"And if we do?" Charlie asks.

Lucas glances at me, but I motion for him to continue. He already stole my thunder, so he might as well strike lighting in my place. "If. That's an interesting word. It opens the door to so many possibilities that it's hard to keep track of them all, and because of that, we can't make an argument based on 'if.' We stand by our qualifier."

I'm about to comment on the "we" when Harper says, "Very convincing, Lucas. How do you counter that, Charlie?"

Charlie stutters for a few seconds before sighing. His gaze stays on his desk as he responds defeatedly, "I just don't want to lie to myself."

"It's just what we believe," Lucas says. "You don't have to agree with us."

I quirk my eyebrow at him, finding my opportunity to speak. "I'm a part of us?"

He smiles broadly. "It would appear so."

I scrunch up my nose and turn away. I will never admit this, but I don't mind being in the same group as a cowboy if he's Lucas. I focus back on the debate and face Charlie again. "That's Didion's claim," I tell him. "We don't agree on morals, and we don't have to. We just can't push others to see life the way we do."

"I just don't understand sacrificing what you believe in order to protect another," he says, shaking his head.

"You don't have to," I repeat. "Just know that's what we believe."

I ignore Lucas' grin when he hears I also said "we."

. . .

"The Roaring 20's," Mr. Matthews announces.

"Oh no," I say, bury my head in my arms, and pretend to fall asleep.

"Come on, Maya," Farkle complains. "It's been three years. It's time to move on."

"No," I mumble. My sleeve muffles my voice.

Suddenly, arms grab my shoulders and shake me. "I DON'T WANT ANOTHER BELGIUM OF 1831," Farkle shouts.

"Fine," I grumble and sit up. "But there isn't anything you can learn from the 20's."

Lucas' face twists with confusion. "What do you have against the 20's?"

Riley turns to him with a giggle. "When Maya and I were in eighth grade, we went to a Halloween party as flappers, and people flirted with us the entire time. I admit it was kind of uncomfortable, but I don't associate it with the 20's like Maya does."

"The way flappers dressed!" I argue. "What were we thinking, Riles? We were only thirteen!" Then I face her dad. "And what were _you_ thinking, Matthews, letting us go out like that?"

He raises his hands defensively. "I just wanted you girls to experience the world."

"I don't think that's a good response, sir," Lucas says with a grimace.

Matthews knits his eyebrows. "What are you - get your mind out of the gutter, son!"

"OH MY GOD, THIS IS ANOTHER BELGIUM OF 1831," Farkle yells.

"Just get on with it before the class goes into chaos, Daddy," Riley demands.

"It already is," Lucas mutters under his breath, and I chuckle.

"The Roaring 20's," Matthews repeats. "A time of fun, prosperity, and freedom, or so it seemed. In reality, the era compiled a list of many, many illegal and immoral acts."

"Actually," I say, "morals are subjective."

"What?"

"Yeah," Lucas agrees. "It all depends on your perspective."

"What's going on here?"

"Mr. Matthews," I say, "Were the 20's actually immoral, or is that just your opinion?"

He sputters for two straight minutes before he says, "You _just_ said otherwise, Maya."

"That's because that's part of _my_ morals," I counter. "Plus, the way the females dressed is only one aspect of the time period."

"Well, I hardly think that breaking the law or participating in gang activity is considered a good thing."

I lean forward. "What laws are we talking about?" I've already broken a couple, like drinking underage.

"The Eighteenth Amendment, for instance. Prohibition made the creation, selling, and transportation of alcohol illegal."

"But, Daddy," Riley begins. "Didn't you-?"

"Sh!" Matthews interrupts. "A boy can become a man and learn from his mistakes."

"So what you're saying is that different times means different perspectives," I say, smirking.

He raises his arms in exasperation. "Or I'm trying to give you a life lesson?"

"Which is?" Riley asks.

Mr. Matthews composes himself when he is finally allowed to speak. "It's easy to lost yourself when you think that there aren't any troubles in the world or, at least, think that problems solve themselves. Now, I encourage you all to be happy, but don't get drunk on freedom. You won't recognize yourself, not from change, but from madness."

I purse my lips, holding back what I want to say. What if we're crazy from feeling stuck? Will finding our way liberate us or consume us with a need to always run wild?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. I was having a bit of a writer's block ._.**

 **To Guest: thanks so much! That's the best compliment anyone could ever give me ;-;**

Chapter Seven: Lucas POV

I sense a nervous aura from the group. Everyone simply glances at everyone else from the corner of their eye, and I want to end this unnerving silence, but I'm afraid to. What is with this tension? Did I miss something?

The guy in the leather jacket chuckles. Since Maya introduced Brandon a few minutes ago, everyone has been fidgeting awkwardly - well, except him. But overall, this guy doesn't seem that bad. I don't know why they're acting this way, so I finally gather the courage to speak. "Howdy," I say to him.

"Morning," he replies. "You must be the infamous Lucas."

What does he mean by infamous? "Yes, I'm Lucas. Did Maya talk about me?" I don't say this hopefully; it's just the only possibility I can think of that's rational.

"Actually, no," he responds, and Maya snickers. "But you have every other girl in the school talking about you."

"And his chiseled jaw line?" Maya says, grinning with mirth. I frown, and she says, "That only enhances your structured face, Cowboy."

Riley sighs softly. "It sure does," she coos, and Farkle rolls his eyes.

"So," I say, trying to change the subject. "Brandon, how do you know Maya?"

"When we were young, she would hang around my dad's garage," he answers. "There aren't many kids in our neighborhood. Too dangerous." The way he speaks so nonchalantly bothers me, like danger is no big deal. I don't believe anyone should live like that, not that anyone can really change a place completely. Still, I wonder if he holds anger and resentment hidden inside of him.

"Hey," Maya protests. "We turned out all right. We are, though barely, functioning citizens."

"No need to defend us, Hart. We may not have the best past, but we're strong people."

I grin at his words. "Brandon, I may have just met you, but I like you." And I do. He's willing to acknowledge his issues and grow from them. I envy that because I can never seem to move on from my mistakes.

"I dare you to tell that to any girl in this school," he teases. "Other than Maya, of course," he adds when Maya snorts.

I expect Maya to point out Riley like she usually does, but she surprisingly just watches me and waits for my reaction. "Um, I'm not good at telling jokes," I say.

"Oh, that is such a lie," she interjects. Then she looks at Brandon and says, "This guy here called me a short stack of pancakes yesterday."

"That wasn't a joke; it's true," I say, but no one seems to hear me, or they just don't really care to.

"Aww," Riley squeals. "That's such a cute nickname!" Wait, my intention wasn't to be cute.

"What?" Maya says indignantly. "No it's not."

"It actually is," Farkle agrees. "Or your pancakes look different from mine." Or you just have a strange image of pancakes.

"Yeah, they do," Maya says. "You eat messed up pancakes if they're adorable to you."

"Oh," Brandon mumbles to himself that almost none of us hear him, but we all still turn to him with our unique expressions of surprise: me with a frown, Maya with a quirked eyebrow, Riley with a furrowed forehead, and Farkle with an open mouth. Then Maya says, "Oh...you see."

Brandon nods. "I see."

"See what?" I ask because I have no idea what's going on, and the only thing to see is our confusion.

Maya turns to me without revealing any emotion. "Nothing you need to know about, Huckleberry."

"I wouldn't say that...," Brandon objects.

Maya glares at him. "Shut up."

He appears unfazed, like he knows she would never hurt him. I glance back and forth between them, wondering what they're thinking, and I am jealous that Brandon understands Maya so well.

. . .

"Okay, what's the matter, Lucas?" Farkle asks me in second period. The only thing I've done for the past forty minutes is work, so I don't have a clue as to why he's asking that question. "What do you mean?" I say.

"You've been frowning since this morning."

Huh. That explains why my face aches. "Nothing currently bothers me, Farkle. I'm fine."

"You can tell me," he pushes anyway. "You know, guy-to-guy, mano-to mano?"

I will never understand him, and I don't know why I still try. "If I tell you, you'll misunderstand."

"Nonsense. I never misunderstand."

I would frown, but my muscles feel sore enough already. "Never is a strong word."

"Indeed it is, Pretty Boy. Just say what you're thinking, and stop stalling."

I sigh, dejected. "How do I learn more about Maya?"

He smirks. "Why do you ask?"

I raise my arms up in exasperation. "See? You misunderstood."

"Fine, fine. I'll ignore the innuendo. How to get close to Maya? Well, you just have to be a good friend who's willing to listen."

I knit my eyebrows. "That's it?" I don't think that's all because I'm sure more people would understand her if that was the case.

"Also, time needs to be an accomplice," he admits. "But I thought that would only discourage you."

I chuckle. "Then you have yet to know me."

After a few moments, he asks, "How about you?" A part of me wonders if the ambiguity is to create a climax to the conversation.

"What about me?"

"What does it take to become close to you?"

I don't respond right away. I am unprepared because I never expected to be asked this question. "Well...I might be the same as Maya, I guess. I don't expect much."

"But you don't share much either." He searches for an answer that I don't have. I don't trust people, but I care about them. It's just a fact about myself, a fact that I don't care to change. Maybe life will change that for me, but for now, I don't have the intention to.

I shrug. "Is it necessary to?"

"No, but I notice you have more depth than I originally thought."

I admit I feel slightly insulted. I'm not just a pretty face. "Didn't you say I was more than just good looking?"

Farkle has a response to everything stored away somewhere in that big mind of his. "Yes, but perfect people don't have depth."

I can't argue with that because I never met a perfect person, so I say, "I guess that's why they don't exist."

. . .

I half regret taking Teacher's Aid. I help a teacher whom I don't know and who seems too lazy to do the work herself. I grade papers, which is the most boring part of a teacher's career - well, unless the subject is English, which it isn't. This irritates me because I'm an aid, not a worker.

The part of me that accepts the fact that I'm stuck here enjoys watching the students from the corner of the room, especially a class of freshmen. That usually makes people suffer from more dread, but I don't see what they do. I see innocent people who don't understand the world yet, and this kind of youth opens a door to immeasureable growth that I lost. I have no chance, but they do. I can only hope they realize that.

Freshmen are a loud group of people. They laugh at jokes I don't understand; they yell random comments. I don't think I was like this when I was their age, but then again, everyone says that when they actually were.

It's kind of ironic that the class is biology. I know it's not the study of human behavior, but it's the study of life, and we are life encompassed. We are mistakes, evolution, lessons. And I like that's what biology teaches us.

"Well, evolution sure did a fine job on Lucas," I hear Mackenzie say. She bats her long eyelashes and gives me a sultry look. I shift uncomfortably in my chair.

"What do you mean?" Michael asks bitterly. Why the hell would you ask that? I really don't want to know the response.

"What is there to be confused about?" Mackenzie replies and crosses her arms. "Look at his sharp facial structure, at his cheekbones. And mm-mm-mm, his biceps are so defined." Please stop. I'm a human, not a Roman statue.

Michael scowls. "What about me?"

"Oh, honey, if you keep looking at people like that, no one will ever call you pretty," she says, shaking her head. Although I agree with her, I find it rude that Mackenzie knows how Michael feels about her, yet she acts like his crush doesn't matter. And I really don't like how she put me in the middle of this. I turn to Ms. Turner and use my eyes to beg for her to continue with her lecture. She nods at me and interrupts, "Well, evolution has more to do with survival traits, Mackenzie." Mackenzie tries to speak again, but Ms. Turner just pushes on with her lesson, and I smile gratefully and lift my pen in the air in salute.

Here's to learning.

. . .

 _A Raisin in the Sun_ drains the life out of me. It's well-written and raw, but it illustrates such a broken family that reminds me too much of my own. My pa wasn't always violent. He was strong and charismatic, but that all changed when I was six. He lost his job and his dream and his mind. I loved him, but I can't love who he's become. And remembering all this makes me tired because these memories only take me to the past and anger me.

How ironic the class casted me as Walter Lee, the man jaded and desperate. I try to not think too hard about it, so I let myself wonder why the class collectively snickered when they chose Maya to be Ruth. I smile to myself when Yogi becomes Travis.

We stand in front of the class because Harper wants us to act, but I don't know how; I've never done something like this before. I move awkwardly, and all I can think about is how Farkle would love to see me fail at something.

But when Maya talks, she gets into full character. She speaks in a soft tone, and she disappears and transforms into Ruth before my eyes. Her simple transition makes me shift away from Lucas Friar to Walter Lee Younger. I look into her dejected eyes, the way she pretends like she wants me to just stop talking, and in turn, my eyes become pleading, wishing she would empathize with me. I chuckle to myself because in reality, she understands me more than I thought anyone could. Or maybe I would like to think that because she sees me better than I see myself despite knowing that I've hurt people.

"Eat your eggs," Ruth says.

"DAMN THESE EGGS," I yell, and it feels like a part of my anger slips in to the air. So I keep yelling and yelling until I feel satisfied, like I've accomplished something with all this shouting. And I guess I have if I feel alleviated of some of my frustration. Is this why he screams? To take away some of the pain of feeling less than human? Then I can't judge Walter Lee, which doesn't scare me. But because he reminds of my pa, I can't judge - that frightens me, being wrong about a man I despise. Sometimes it's just easier to antagonize someone than acknowledging all their cracks.

Eventually, the bell rings, and it's hard to readjust. I feel as though my soul is sitting on top of my skin, trying to come back to the hollow in my chest. I'm not myself, but I'm not anyone else. I'm nobody.

"Why so gloomy, Ranger Rick?" Maya asks, coming up from behind me.

"Huh?" I say, not fully processing her question.

She studies me carefully then reaches her hand out to touch my cheek. "Are you all right, Lucas?"

I blink, my soul finding its place. "Did you just call me 'Lucas'?"

She blinks too, but smiles softly when she recovers from her own surprise. Her eyes shift to and away from me as she says, "I've always known your name. But back to my question: are you okay?"

"Yeah," I reply honestly. Then I grin because the Blonde Beauty knows my name.

. . .

"The American Dream," Mr. Matthews says. "A way to hope or destroy?"

"A way to hope," Farkle answers.

I remember Walter Lee and disagree. "A way to destroy."

"Both," Maya says.

"And why is that?" Mr. Matthews asks.

She looks down at her desk and traces the lines in the wood. "Hope destroys."

"Not always, Peaches," Riley says, reaching her hand out for Maya's. "It all depends on if we know how to get back up from disappointment."

Maya looks up at Riley and remembers every time Riley believed in a better day after a bad one. I don't doubt that Riley has had days she wishes never happened; she is human, after all. I smile at the two best friends in reassurance, and Maya nods. "Okay," she says.

"You _are_ partially correct, Maya," Mr. Matthews says.

"Huh?" Riley says. "But, Daddy - "

"The American Dream was both," he interrupts. "The world discriminated many during that time, yet many still hoped for otherwise. But sometimes we don't get what we want. Sometimes we labor through, and the American Dream still evades us."

Riley seems appalled. "Are you telling us not to hope, Daddy?"

He shakes his head. "That's not what I'm saying at all."

"But - " Farkle begins.

"I mean, sometimes what we expect of our futures won't happen," Mr. Matthews continues. "But what we don't have, the world makes up for with something just as great, or even greater. Students, take out a sheet of paper and write down what your dream is."

I hear shuffling as we all do as we're told. _I want to be good_ , I write. That's all I have to say. I realize "good" is vague, but I don't know what good is to add more. _Kind?_ I jot down. _Stable? Patient?_

I look up around me. Riley writes freely with a huge grin on her face, and Farkle scribbles frantically with a devilish smirk. And Maya just stares at her paper.

"What's wrong, Maya?" Mr. Matthews asks. "Why aren't you writing anything?"

I can hear her bitter smile as she replies, "I don't have a dream."

Mr. Matthews frowns but gazes at her compassionately. "Is that really the truth? Or are you just ignoring what you want?"

Slowly, Maya slouches further and further into her seat, sinks further and further into herself. Then she picks up her pencil and writes despondently, and the sight makes me want to scream. I want to tell her whatever she years for is possible, but I know it's probably not true. Which makes me want to scream more. I bury my head and let out silent screams into the crook of my arm, not caring who sees me.

I feel a hand touch my shoulder gently. "Huckleberry," Maya says softly.

I take a deep breath then look up at her. Her gaze is warm as she asks, "What did you put, Sundance?"

My hand shakes as I pass her my paper, and she grabs it. She reads it without expression, and when she finishes, she takes her pencil and scribbles over it quickly. She hands it back, and I look down at it. _Lucas the Good,_ it says. I smile at her, which she returns.

"What did you write, Maya?" Mr. Matthews asks, ignoring her and my exchange. He holds out his hand to show the question was a request, not a demand. She shakes her head and responds, "I will read it myself." Mr. Matthews nods and leans against his desk. Maya sits up straighter, and I know she's fighting the urge to curl into herself. I've done the same many times in my life to know. She says, "I dream of a world where our firsts are our lasts, where those who come stay, where money doesn't play a role in our relationships...where people mean it when they say, 'I love you'... And I dream of a world where dreams come true."

"Maya...," Riley says. "You already have that. I'm your first friend, and I'll always be your best friend. I'm never going to leave you. I don't care if your roof leaks because your heart holds so much care that I wonder how I got so lucky to have you. I love you, Peaches. Home is with us," she says, gesturing to herself, Farkle, and me. "Home is me."

Maya nods to her again and says, "Okay." Then she bursts into tears, and Riley flies out of her chair to hug her. Maya repeats "okay, okay" as Riley strokes her hair. I stretch my hand out to squeeze Maya's shoulder, and Riley smiles at me. Farkle gets out of his seat to join the embrace and gestures for me to do the same. I stand up, and when we all hold Maya in our arms, I feel our hearts beat as one.

. . .

After a long day, I needed to unwind, so I asked Farkle if he wanted to jog around the track with me. He told me he couldn't run for long periods of time, so I told him I would take it easy on him. I thought it would take more to convince him by the look on his face, but he agreed.

I glance to my left at Farkle who seems troubled. He doesn't appear out of breath, but I still ask, "Are you okay, Farkle?"

"Yeah," he replies without gasping for air. "I'm fine."

"Then what's the matter?"

He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "Do you...?" he starts but then shakes his head as if to dismiss the thought.

"Do I...?"

"Do you like Riley?"

What? He accused me of liking Maya just earlier today. "I like her, but not as more than a friend." I turn to him briefly before saying, "Why?"

"I..."

"You...?"

"I love her."

"Yes...and?" I say, not seeing where he's going with this. He's told me this many times.

"As more than a friend."

I try not to grow impatient. "I knew that already, Farkle."

"And I love Maya only as a sister."

"Oh...oh!" I exclaim, putting the pieces together. "You decided! That's good."

"Yeah...," he says, but he doesn't seem excited.

"What's the issue?" I ask because I honestly think he and Riley work well together.

"She's interested in someone else."

"Oh...um..." I don't know how to respond to that; I've never felt disappointed from unrequited love.

"She likes you," he blurts out.

I blink rapidly with realization. "Is that why you're mean to me sometimes?"

He looks at me and drops his jaw. "You really are oblivious."

I shrug stupidly. "So it would seem."

He sighs. "For a pretty boy like you, you know so little about girls."

"Well I haven't ever dated one."

"Neither have I, but I know when a girl likes someone, she becomes a giggling mess."

I frown. "Okay...so what are you going to do about this?"

"I...I don't know," he admits, staring at the ground. "But I'm going to figure that out."

"I hope it works out, Farkle," I say sincerely. Good people deserve the presence of other good people.

He smiles at me gratefully. "Thanks. I hope you and Maya will be happy too."

I sigh as I say for who-knows-how-many times, "We're not together."

"Not yet...," he says ominously. Before I can reply, he sprints away from me and laughs maniacally. "Catch me if you can!"

That boy lied. He can run. In fact, he should join track.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: To Monica and others who waited so long for the next chapter: so sorry! Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with ideas that don't flow together.**

 **To Crystal: YOU LOVE FARKLE BECAUSE HE'S AMAZING WITHOUT ANYONE'S HELP. And I apologize for the fact that this chapter is once again in Lucas' POV, but when you read it, you'll understand why I chose to do this.**

 **Disclaimer: I obviously don't own GMW or** ** _A Raisin in the Sun._**

Chapter Eight: Lucas POV

When Maya and Riley arrive, I push Farkle to Riley, and Maya watches them carefully as she approaches Brandon and me. I guess she knows too.

"Hey," she greets when she stands in front of us. I tell her good morning, and Brandon gives her a nod. "So you know?" she asks me.

I understand her incomplete sentence. "Yeah, I know." She bites her lip, wanting to say more but feeling unsure whether she should. I answer her dilemma with a "yes, I know she has a crush on me." I glance at Brandon who doesn't appear fazed at this confession, then back at Maya who doesn't seem irritated that I said that in front of him.

She sighs. "Look. I know you don't really believe in love, and I care about Riley and Farkle, so this would be a great opportunity to get them together and make them both happy. But are you willing to give your chance up? Riley would never hurt you."

I watch Farkle and Riley, how she laughs and puts her hand on Farkle's shoulder, how he grins at her like she's some kind of miracle. Then I face Maya again and say, "I could never like her as more than a friend, much less love her as much as he does."

Maya purses her lips and nods slowly. "If you're sure."

"Don't worry, Maya," Brandon says. "Lucas will find someone too."

That statement takes me off guard, so I quickly turn to Maya and wait for her to deny such an accusation. I don't need to have someone to complete me; we've discussed this before. But Maya just sucks on her lip, and I'm again jealous of how Brandon can read her so easily.

"How do you do that?" I ask him.

"Do what?" he says.

"Know exactly what Maya's thinking?"

He shrugs, and with that movement, he strikes me as a modest man. "I just do."

Maya nudges him with her shoulder. "He's just sensitive, whether you believe it or not. He feels an empathetic link to anyone, even you, Huckleberry."

"Well, that's not surprising. I mean, you always know when something is bothering me."

She huffs indignantly. "Because I'm good at reading people too, Hee Haw."

I know she is, but I don't want to admit that to her, so I direct my attention to Brandon. Before I open my mouth, he says, "Do you really want me to say what you're thinking?"

I stiffen, now scared if I'm an open book to him. "You assumed that from logical reasoning."

"Your tense shoulders tell me you think otherwise, Friar."

"Now you're just reading my body language."

"And you're just avoiding the truth."

I turn to Maya. "Is he always like this?"

She smirks. "Only when he's right."

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. He's like another version of Zay, except toned down. But still, I only need one Zay in my life.

I glance at Riley and Farkle who don't seem to mind being alone, and I realize that Riley only has a small infatuation for me. She could actually love Farkle if she just gave him a chance. But she'll have to figure that out on her own.

. . .

Farkle puts down his pencil and says, "Thanks, Lucas."

"For what?" I ask because he's the one who helps me with math (much to his egotistical glee).

"You stepped back for me," he clarifies.

"I mean, sure, but it wasn't a big deal or anything," I say. "We're just friends."

"Still. You always talk to her in the morning."

"I can talk to her whenever I want, Farkle. Don't sweat it." I slap him on the back, and his head doesn't fall to his desk for the first time. I grin at him and say, "It looks like those practices have been paying off."

He puffs his chest out proudly. "Even a small fry like me can learn how to be athletic."

I smile. "Yeah." He's really growing into his skin, grasping at the fact that he's more than just an evil genius. I'm thrilled for him.

As I pick my pencil up again, Farkle says, "I guess I should return the favor."

"What do you mean?" I ask, only half-listening.

"I should push you to talk to Maya more," he replies, and I drop my pencil with a _clack_. I turn to him with a frown. "One," I say, "I already talk to her a lot, and two, you don't need to do that for me."

"You gave me a chance. So I want to give you a chance too," he says earnestly.

I sigh. I tried being patient with him for the week that I've known him, but he's more stubborn than me and Maya combined. So I'll let him do as he wishes. I just hope he doesn't expect anything to come out of it.

. . .

"Come on, Lucas," Harper says. "We have to finish Act Two today."

I look up from my desk and nod. This is the fourth day of _A Raisin the Sun,_ and I don't know how much more I can take of being Walter Lee. I get too disoriented; I forget who I am and what I believe in. The only thing that reminds me of Lucas Friar is Maya's touch and nicknames. It's actually kind of funny that I associate myself with what she calls me. I'm Lucas Friar, Abigail Adams' Huckleberry, Sundance, Ranger Rick. And it's starting to feel like it suits me.

So as I walk to the front of the classroom, I go up as Lucas Friar, not Walter Lee. I can only hope no one will call me out for it this time. In this scene, I'm supposed to be excited, but I haven't felt that way for many years. So I look back at my childhood recollections to try to find how that emotion make me act. I remember before Pa became angry, when he was still somewhat the man I loved, he came home with some extra money and asked if I wanted to buy some ice cream with him. I jumped what seemed like ten feet in to the air and yelled, "Yeah, Pa!" I know using that memory as a reference would make me seem like a child, but that's all I can do as Lucas Friar.

I stare at the imaginary door in anticipation. Maya encourages, "Well, go on. What are you waiting for?"

I turn to smile at her and admit, "Sometimes it's hard to let the future begin." Then I walk up to her like the stage directions tell me to and stop abruptly. I'm supposed to kiss her passionately. I look up at Maya who simply shrugs as if to say, "It's no big deal." I turn to Harper who nods her approval, and I should have known not to expect the atypical teacher to tell us not to act out this scene. I don't even bother looking at my classmates, and I don't have to because Charlie mutters impatiently, "Just kiss her already."

I place my hands tentatively on Maya's waist and gaze into her lightning blue eyes. She smiles gently to reassure me, and I close my eyes and lean in. When my lips meet hers, I'm overwhelmed by her, and all I can think is "Maya, Maya, Maya." I could stay like that forever, stay connected to the soft lips I knew they would be, but luckily, Sarah interrupts us. I pull back sharply and blink. Maya bites her lips and looks into my eyes through her thick eyelashes before facing Sarah.

"This is just the effect of a first kiss," I keep telling myself, but deep down, I know otherwise. And maybe Maya does too, if her constantly glancing at me is any indication. I regret not going up to the front of the class as Walter Lee because I could have pretended whatever that just happened was him and Ruth. But now I have to face the fact that it was Maya Hart and Lucas Friar. And Lucas Friar is petrified of love.

. . .

"Was the Cold War really a fight for democracy?" Mr. Matthews asks. "Or was it a fight for world dominance?"

"Well," Farkle begins, "we feared communism so much that we called it the 'Red Scare.' I think we just wanted to defeat communism; protecting _some_ democracies and establishing ourselves as a world power were just a couple of bonuses."

"What do you mean by some democracies, Farkle?"

"In our attempt to end communism, we supported some dictatorships that claimed to have the same cause."

"Why do we do that, Daddy?" Riley asks. "Before we get involved in foreign affairs, shouldn't we think of the people living in the country instead of ourselves?"

"Yes, we should, Riley," Mr. Matthews answers.

"But sometimes, fear makes us do irrational things," Farkle says. After that statement, the three of them turn to Maya and me, and I flush. I don't know what she's doing because I refuse to look at her, but judging how our friends caught on to the awkward tension, she's avoiding me too. I hear her say flatly, "What."

"Did something happen?" Mr. Matthews asks.

"English happened," she replies with a shrug.

Mr. Matthews turns to me because Maya obviously won't give him a straight answer. "Lucas?"

I lick my lips. "Yes, sir?"

"What happened?"

Oh, God. If he didn't like the idea of me being interested in Riley, how would he take it if I'm interested in his other daughter? "Uh...I'm not comfortable with the response, sir."

"Why not?"

"Because...you'll kill me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because he kissed Maya," says Yogi from the other side of the room.

I notice Maya tense up as if she's about to pounce on him, so right as she jumps out of her seat, I catch her around the waist. I feel my arm tingle where she touches it and sit her back down. She turns back to me with a scowl, and I shrug sheepishly. Then she faces Yogi and growls. "Shut up."

I look at everyone in the room, namely Farkle, Riley, and Mr. Matthews. Farkle seems smug (probably thinking he's right about Maya and me, that little-). Riley doesn't appear hurt like Maya perhaps feared; she just gazes at us curiously. And Mr. Matthews fumes - I swear I can see smoke coming out of his ears. "Friar..."

I raise my hands up in defense. "It was for a play!"

He appears only slightly placated, like he doesn't completely believe me. "Well, why didn't you just say that?"

"Because you freak out easily," says Maya. I breathe out a sigh of relief because she finally did something useful in helping me not get murdered by my history teacher.

"I do not!" he yells, then clears his throat when he realizes he's proven her point. He straightens his tie. "I do not."

Maya only quirks an eyebrow at him then faces Riley and says, "It wasn't a big deal."

The time to be scared of Riley is the time she doesn't show emotion. "Okay," she says, but I don't know if she really is okay. All I know is that she just looks at us both as if contemplating what's going to happen next. And I wonder too.

. . .

I notice Ma is stressed, so instead of having her make dinner, I treat her to a restaurant. Except I don't have a lot of money, so I take her to the Night Hawk Diner. I open the door for her, and she grins at me (even though she's the one who taught me how to be a southern gentleman).

It's late because Ma insisted that I finish my homework before we go out; there's only one other customer. The practically empty building delights Ma because she always wanted to sit at the counter instead of the booth. As we take our seats, I notice a familiar small, pale hand slide over menus and look up to meet lightning blue eyes. "Maya?" I say. "You work here?"

She smirks. "Where did you think I worked, Hopalong?"

"I-I don't know, but what are the odds that I pick the place you work at?"

"Well, you're the bigger math nerd, so you tell me." I actually consider doing just that, so she laughs at me. Then she says, "I'll give you time to think. Just holler for me when you're ready to order."

After she leaves, Ma says, "So that's Maya? The one who calls you a plethora of nicknames?"

I talk a great deal about Maya to Ma. "Yeah," I reply.

"Why does she work so late?"

I frown and turn the pages of the menu. "She and her ma need the money. But before you ask me more questions, we should pick out what we're going to eat in case she comes back."

I was hoping that would end the conversation, but then Ma closes her eyes, points at a random dish on the menu, and says, "This is what we're getting." Before I can see what she chose, she calls Maya over and tells her, "We'll have the veggie burger and fries."

Maya grabs a pen from behind her ear and jots that down. "Okay, and what will you have for drinks?"

"Water will do," Ma replies, and as Maya turns to grab the cups and pitcher, she says, "And sweetie?"

Maya pours the water into the glasses. "Yes?"

"Why don't you sit and eat with us? I'll pay for whatever you want."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that, Miss," says an older female with blonde hair and brown eyes. She puts her arm around Maya, and for a second, I think she's a controlling boss until Maya says, "Lucas, Lucas's mom, this is my mom."

"Well, that's even better," Ma exclaims. "I can pay for both of your dinners."

"You don't have to, Miss..." Maya looks at me to fill in the blank because she knows Ma doesn't go by Friar anymore.

Ma grins. "Call me Layla."

"Well, Layla," Maya's ma says. "We appreciate the offer, but we decline."

Ma gets that glint in her eyes when someone doesn't accept her hospitality, and I internally cringe. She's too compassionate for her own good. I clear my throat awkwardly and say, "Um, sorry, but Ma doesn't take no for an answer...and I really don't want Ma to embarrass me."

Maya smirks. "Oh, Huckleberry, you don't need anyone to embarrass you; you do that all on your own."

"Maya!" her ma chides.

I chuckle. "It's okay, ma'am. She has a point. But seriously, may you join us for dinner?"

Maya looks at her ma hopefully, and her ma surrenders. "Oh, all right. It's not like we have any other customers to attend to." Maya jumps up excitedly and hugs her ma, and as they walk away to get our food, her ma says over her shoulder, "By the way, don't be afraid to call me Katy."

When they're in the kitchen, Ma says, "They're good people."

I watch Maya and her ma bicker over who-knows-what and smile at the scene. "Yeah. They are."

After thirty minutes, the other customer left, and Maya and her ma come back with four plates of burgers and fries. Her ma sits next to my ma, and Maya sits next to me.

"Hey, Ranger Rick."

"Howdy, Shortstack."

She scrunches up her nose and dips a fry in ketchup and plops it in to her mouth. We let a comfortable silence settle over us, but then I apologize.

She raises a brow. "For what?"

"For Ma's persistence. I love her, but she can get a bit abrasive."

"It's all right. I like that she's so strong." She gulps down some water and says, "I'm sorry too."

I frown because I can't list a thing that she's done wrong to me. "For?"

"For what happened in English today."

"Oh" is all I have to reply with.

She swirls a fry around and around in the ketchup for a few moments before she asks, "Was that..." I wait because although I crave understanding Maya like the back of my hand, she'll tell you what she's thinking when she's ready. "Was that your first kiss?"

I grimace. "Was it that obvious?"

"No," she responds sincerely. "It was probably the best kiss I've ever experienced. I was just curious, and I didn't want to assume I was your first."

"Oh," I repeat. Then I tease her: "That was probably the best kiss I've ever had too."

She punches me lightly on the shoulder and laughs. "Shut up, Huckleberry."

When we finish our meal, Ma announces something I would never have expected would happen in my lifetime. "Hey, Maya? How would you feel about moving in to our home?"

She and I blink in shock. Then she coughs and says, "What?"

"Would you like to move in with Lucas and me?"

Maya's eyes trail to her ma's. "Mom...?"

Her ma shrugs. "I tried to explain to Layla that we were fine, but she gave a convincing argument."

"Maya," Ma says. "You could work less hours; Lucas could help you with your homework; you don't have to worry about the bills...and you could see your mother more. She'll be there when you wake up."

Maya can't wrap her mind around this. "That's asking a lot from you both..."

"Like mother, like daughter, indeed," Ma says mostly to herself. Then more loudly: "I offer you a small rent of fifty dollars per month."

"What about space?" Maya asks, but I can see her warming up to the idea.

"We actually have extra rooms for guests," I admit, feeling the need to contribute something. "But we never get any."

"And a single lady such as me doesn't get enough company," Ma adds.

Maya bites her lip. "You're sure it wouldn't be too much trouble...?"

"None at all," Ma responds with a reassuring smile.

Maya closes her eyes and inhales deeply for a couple of seconds. "Okay," she agrees. "When should we move in?"

Ma grins. "Friday is a good day."

Maya's ma says, "Well, I guess I have to talk to our landlord."

Ma claps her hands together. "I suppose it's settled."

I look at Maya who's already looking at me. "Yeah," she breathes out. "I suppose it is."

. . .

"What?!" Zay yells from his end of the line. "The Blonde Beauty is moving in with you?"

I gave up on telling Zay to stop calling her "The Blonde Beauty." "Yep..." I say then run a hand down my face. "I don't know how to feel about this."

He smirks. "And why don't you?"

"Because," I answer flatly.

"Because he likes her very much," Ma says and sits on my bed next to me.

"Ma!" Zay and I yell with different emotions, him with excitement and me with exasperation.

"Don't deny it, Lucas. You finally like someone, and a good girl at that."

Instead of fighting Ma (because let's face it: I'll lose), I say, "But I've only known her for a week."

"Hallelujah!" Zay exclaims. "Lucas Friar didn't blatantly deny his crush! We're finally getting somewhere."

Ma ignores him. "What do you know about her, Lucas?"

"N-not much," I lie.

"The truth, son."

I sigh, too tired to even try to keep quiet around Ma. Well, here goes nothing. "I know that her favorite color is orange because of the sunset and that her favorite class is art because it isn't really a class for her. I know that she actually listens to her teachers despite her reputation of being a bad student and that she has a short temper but only when it comes to the people she cares about. When she's nervous or unsure, she bites her lip; when she's mad, she stomps her feet like a child. And when she's happy, she gets this smile that makes you want to smile with her..." I figure I said enough, so I look up, and I find an arrogant Zay and a proud Ma. "What," I say.

"How you can learn so much about a person in a week, I wonder," says Ma. "But regardless of how, you most certainly know enough to like her."

I panic. "But what if I fall in love with her?"

She smiles gently. "With hearts as innocent as the both of yours, I'd say that's a beautiful gift." She gets up, and before she leaves my room, she warns, "But I hope you know better than to do anything inappropriate when she lives here."

"Ma!"

Zay cracks up. "Ma knows what's up."

I glare at him through the screen. "Shut up, Zay."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: To the guest named Lucaya, I appreciate your constructive criticism, but may you tell me what you dislike about Lucas and Maya living together? If you think inappropriate things will happen, don't worry! They won't :)**

 **To the guest who keeps telling me to update and to others who wish for me to update more quickly, sorry! I have so many AP classes that I need to work hard for, and when I'm not studying, I read other people's story to relax. Please bear with me.**

 **I fixed the format! My computer messed it up. Thank you, Guest, for letting me know.**

Chapter Nine: Maya POV

"Riles," I say. "I have something to tell you, but you need to sit down." I guide her to the seats in front of us, and when we sit, she takes my hand and asks, "What is it, Peaches?"

I cover her hand with my free one, take a deep breath, and reply, "I'm moving in with Lucas." When she doesn't respond, I look up to find her studying me. "Honey?"

"Okay," she says. That's all she has to say these days.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask softly.

"No, of course not," she responds. Riley never lies, so I'm about to ask her why she isn't when she says, "I'm just confused about what's going on."

I furrow my brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you and Lucas connected so easily, and now you're living with him, which is something I'm curious about, by the way. I also wonder why he and I didn't click that way. Then you tell me you know things about him that I couldn't know in a week, much less a year, but I still like him, and I'm confused as to how that's possible. Plus, Farkle isn't helping..."

"Okay," I say, holding my hands up. This is a lot to take in. "Back up. Let me get this straight: you like Lucas, but you don't know why, and you may be developing feelings for Farkle."

She smiles sheepishly. "Maybe?"

"Well, you have been getting closer to Farkle," I admit.

She sighs. "But why do I like Lucas?"

I shrug. "Because he's hot?" I half-joke.

She throws her hands up. "Am I really that shallow?"

I rest my hand on her shoulder and say, "No, you're not. I believe you just know when a person is special. "

She studies me carefully before: "Seriously, I won't mind it at all if you like him."

"Riles..." I half-heartedly argue. Even though sometimes she knows me better than myself, I want to admit neither what I may feel nor the fear that comes with knowing she is sincere.

"I mean it. I like him, but you could have so much more with him, and it's been a year since you broke up with Uncle Josh." She winces when she sees my face twist. "Sorry. But I do think this has the potential to be your happily ever after."

I run my hand through my hair, making the messy curls even messier, and sigh. "I...I'm just not ready to get hurt again."

"Do you really think he'll hurt you?"

I look down to avoid her gaze, but she adjusts. "I don't know," I say.

She smiles sadly. "I think you do."

I do, but I won't tell her that because I also know that what the mind thinks, the heart can never understand.

. . .

As Riley and I reach our lockers, she squeezes my arm and gives me an expectant expression before she goes to talk to Farkle. Lucas gives me a small smile which I quickly return before pulling Brandon away. He doesn't fight me and even has the audacity to simply offer indifference. I scowl and say through gritted teeth, "You knew, but you didn't tell me."

He shrugs. "I thought it would be better if you found out for yourself."

I try to contain my anger in case Lucas hears me. "But I could have stopped it if you told me!" I whisper harshly.

He raised his eyebrows. "Could you? I think you of all people should know that emotions cannot be controlled or suppressed, only hidden."

I flinch. Yes, I do know. That defines my entire relationship with Josh. I couldn't stop myself from saying yes to him when he rejected me for so many years, couldn't stop myself from screaming profanities at him when I found out he cheated on me, couldn't stop myself from crying all night on Riley's shoulder. I don't regret going out with him, but I regret letting him affect me this much.

"Besides," Brandon continues. "You know he won't hurt you."

I sigh, not meeting his eyes. "Why do people keep telling me that?"

His expression softens. "Because that's what you're most afraid of."

I shake my head, pulling at my hair. "I don't want to deal with this now."

He gently moves my hands away. "If not now, when?"

I look into his dark eyes, and my lip twitches. "But I'm living with him. Do you know what could happen if we don't work out?"

He smiles. "You're mature, Maya. I'm sure that wouldn't affect anything." I bite my lip, and when he sees I have nothing left to say, he asks, "Is that all? Because I think we should get back there before anyone gets suspicious."

I nod in agreement, and we head back to our friends to see Lucas and Farkle in a heated debate. Honestly, any argument with Farkle turns out stupid, so although I'm not sure what I expect, I'm not surprised to find that I don't really care.

"Farkle," Lucas says, "why does it matter that I got a higher grade than you this one time? Besides, it was a pop quiz."

"Because you already have the looks and the athletic ability!" Farkle says, raising his hands in the air. "Save something for me, gosh darn it."

"Even geniuses have to learn, Farkle," Riley says. If you didn't know Riley, you'd think she's only supporting Lucas, but in reality, she is on both sides. She wants Farkle to see that the number of errors you make don't determine whether you're a genius, which is what Lucas is also trying to convince Farkle of.

I figure I should break the tension, so I throw my arm around Farkle's shoulders and say, "Ya know what, Farks? I would take your brain any day. Beats having this noggin'." I hit my head lightly with my fist.

Farkle switches our positions and rubs my hair, and I curse puberty. I can't get out of his grip, which wouldn't have happened if he was still my size. I wriggle, and he laughs and lets me go. "You're beautiful, Maya," he says, looking down at me. "And I don't just mean on the outside."

I furrow my brow in confusion. "What does that have to do with smarts?"

"I mean you have a lot to be proud of. Intelligence is all I have," he replies and kicks his foot while he stares at the floor.

Seriously, this boy needs more self-confidence. "Psh," I say, dismissing the negativity. "I think you have more than that, like a good taste in friends."

He smiles at me. "I suppose I do."

. . .

I really wanted to join AP art, but I never had the time to. I guess the lack of time makes me enjoy art class even more, though. Ms. Kossal tries to convince me to switch classes, and I almost say yes until I remember that I have work later. Even now that I'm going to live with Lucas, I won't change my schedule because I'm scared I might take too much advantage of his and his mom's altruism.  
I sing quietly to myself as I paint. I don't guide my hand; my hand guides me, and the only way it can do that is if I lose myself in the art.

"Shadows settle on the place that you left.  
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness.  
Destroy the middle-it's a waste of time,  
From the perfect start to the finish line."  
Sometimes I wonder if people hear me singing. I don't feel too weird about it, but while my paintings speak, the songs translate what I portray.  
"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky one  
'Cause most of us are breathing through corrupted lungs."

I've heard people's interpretation of that lyric. They say it means she's suffocating, but I think it means she inhales poison. Sometimes I feel like that.

"Setting fire to our insides for fun,  
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong."

I forgot the next part of the song, and I wish I remembered. Because now I'm thinking of Josh when I didn't even realize he was somewhere in the back of my mind. Then again, he always haunts me. He haunts me when I see Riley in a knit beanie, when I see couples at school, when I see anyone with brown eyes and a crooked grin.

"Maya?" Ms. Kossal says, bringing me out of my haze.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

I wonder if she asks because of the words I'm singing or the picture I'm painting, so I look down at my canvas. Colors swirl and swirl together to make a hideous brown, but in the corner of the image, there's no paint at all. I myself am confused as to what that is supposed to represent when Ms. Kossal repeats, "Maya?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm okay. I just... I don't know what this symbolizes. I'm sorry; I've disappointed you."

"No, no. You didn't disappoint me. I think what you've done emphasizes how you feel."

I furrow my brow. "How I feel?"

She sits down next to me. "Well, I actually have two opposite theories."

"Um, okay."

"Over here," she says, gesturing to the area where white meets whatever-the-hell-color-that-is, "the array of colors could be dripping into the white of the canvas. And to me, that symbolizes your fear."

"Fear of what?" I ask because I know what fear looks like, and it's not this.

"Forgive me for putting it this way, but fear of becoming insane from your turbulent emotions."

"Okay," I say, dismissing that idea, not just because it's depressing, but because I'm familiar with that feeling, and this isn't it. "What's your other theory?"

She smiles gently at me. "The white is absorbing the mess of colors." She starts to admire the strength of the white, so I have to ask her, "And what does that mean?"

She faces me again, smile still in place. "That you're learning to hope again."

My eyes widen, and I turn to my painting. Is that why I couldn't recognize myself in what I made? I thought it was because I usually don't suck, but now I see what Ms. Kossal sees. I face her, and she's still smiling at me like I've given her a gift even though what I painted looks like literal crap. And that's when I realize that no matter how ugly life can be, hope makes it beautiful.

But what am I hoping for?

. . .

I tap my fingers on the desk, irritated. I mumble to myself about how hope is for suckers and I'm not a sucker. I've seen enough of the world to know that I'm not, or at least not fall into the same traps they do.

"Maya," Brandon says.

"What," I growl. Then I repeat less animalistic, "What?"

He puts down his crossword puzzle, which is how I know he's being serious. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I want to forget about it," I say then rummage through my bag for my sketchbook because I honestly should have done that to begin with. Brandon shrugs and lets me do whatever I wish to do.

I grab random color pencils and sing metal songs and feel like a preteen entering puberty. Or maybe like a grumpy old man. Except grumpy old men probably wouldn't rock out to metal. Whatever.

"Well, that's concerning," Brandon says, pulling me out of my brooding.

I look down at my paper and see vibrant colors, which seem happy to me until I notice I drew a forest on fire. "I just like the smell of smoke."

"I don't doubt you do, b-"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"-But you prefer smoke from campfires."

"Oh," I say, and when he opens his mouth again, I grab his crossword and scan the page. I point at #9. "Aergia."

"How do you know that?" he asks, disinterested. He's only entertaining me because he knows that's what it takes to get somewhere with me.

"Because I am her," I answer simply.

"Who is she?"

"The Greek goddess of laziness."

He snickers, and I smile, but that fades when he says, "But seriously, Hart. You can't keep avoiding this topic."

I frown, sink in my seat, and sigh. "I just hate what I feel right now."

"What do you feel?" he asks, and my head jolts to face him instead of my hands. He usually guesses right himself, so I doubt he really wonders. Then I remember Brandon doesn't waste his words, so I turn away from him and whisper, "Hope."

"Ah," he says succinctly.

I quirk a brow at him. "What?"

He's never reacted to much, so I don't expect me to be able to intimidate him. "That means I didn't need to tell you what I noticed because you noticed too."

My eyes widen in anger. "No, no, no, no, no. You don't get to exculpate yourself. You have to be responsible enough to take the blame."

"There is no blame. There's nothing wrong with what you feel."

"Yes, there is," I hiss. A proctor glances at me but doesn't say anything otherwise.

"Why?" he asks calmly.

"Be-because I'm a Hart!" I reply angrily. "Because we don't get to be happy; we don't get to love and be loved. I made the mistake of hoping before, and I don't want to make it again."

"History doesn't always repeat itself, Maya."

I cross my arms. "My family would beg to differ."

He reaches out to move my hands away from myself, removing my shield. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe that kept happening because they were all afraid of the future too?"

"How does being scared affect anything?"

"It affects more than you think it would."

I purse my lips. I don't completely agree. Fear does stop me from pursuing every opportunity given to me, but that fear came from experience. Experience leads to learning, and alarms go off every time I stray from who I am: Maya Hart, the girl who doesn't deserve happiness, the girl who is supposed to help others feel happy.

Brandon puts his hand on my shoulder. "Maya, you give everyone a chance to grow. Maybe it's time you do that for yourself."

But can't you see, Brandon? I'm terrified of finding out I'm not the Amazon warrior everyone sees. I push that thought aside and say, "Then explain to me how I could let go of the walls I built for myself and fall for him within a week."

He opens and closes his palms, a contemplative motion. "How long have you known me, Hart?"

"Since we were five," I answer automatically. I don't tell him to get straight to the point because Brandon is always terse.

"Do you love me?"

I scoff. What kind of question is that? "Of course I do."

"I mean as more than a friend."

"Oh. No. Are you hitting on me?"

He ignores my joke. "So why does time matter? Obviously, time doesn't affect anything. And before you say that we need time to get to know somebody then fall in love, that didn't happen with me or Farkle or even Riley."

I'll give him that, but "I'm not in love with him."

"I know you aren't," he agrees, and that scares me. Because he means I will one day.

. . .

I skim through _A Raisin in the Sun_ to check for more kissing scenes and breathe a sigh of relief when I find there isn't. I don't need my heart to be an idiot, especially in front of the class. I also notice I kind of fade in importance for the rest of the play, but I'm okay with that. This story mostly focuses on how Walter grows.

We are at the part where the family finds out that Willy lost all of the money Walter's dad earned over his lifetime. Sarah shakes her head tiredly and talks about how she watched her husband sit on the couch, exhausted after a long day's work. I think about my mom and how when we come home, she immediately collapses on her bed. She wishes me, "Good night, Baby Girl," and she falls asleep without even getting out of her uniform. I worry about her. It's why I agreed to Lucas' and his mom's offer to move in with them; I want her to sleep comfortably and securely.

Speaking of Lucas, at this moment, he's on his knees. He moans, "Please not with that money, not with my father's money," as Sarah continues shaking her head. "Willy! Willy!"

Without even thinking about it, I go up to Lucas and rest my hand on his shoulder. He turns and buries his face into my stomach. I feel him shake, and a part of me wonders if he's laughing because I want to. Acting like we're somebody else always amuses me. As another person, I can convince myself that I mean something, but as myself, I can never. If I can morph into a character, why can't I be a good person? Why can't I make myself worth something?

Lucas releases his hands on my waist and turns to Sarah who pretends to slap him across the face. I become paralyzed for a moment because I thought she really hit him, and he doesn't deserve to be hurt. I stand closer to Lucas protectively as Sarah yells at him. He seems so fragile, sitting on his knees and staring despondently at her. He's lost in his memories, but no one knows that, so I don't say anything. No one else has to know that this play attacks his stability.

I worry about Lucas until the end of the final scene because by this point, Walter redeemed himself with a heartfelt speech. I don't really understand why he was so affected by acting the role of Walter, but Lucas' smile comes out more naturally, a smile that looks reassured. And then I realize that he has hope. For what, I don't know, but I guess he's hopeful for humanity in general. Even a broken man can love.

"What?" he asks me with a small smile, and I realize I have been staring at him.

I turn away and shrug nonchalantly. "Nothing really."

"No, tell me," he insists, like what I have to say is so important.

I study his face, finding something so ingenuous that I phrase my statement into question. "How do feel about playing Walter?"

He purses his lips and nods slowly, understanding what I meant to say. "He reminds me of my dad."

"Why?" I ask, but as he's about to respond, the bell rings. He says, "I'll tell you later."

We walk out the door, and I complain, "But I have work after school."

Before we go our separate ways, he grins and says, "I know."

. . .

"Slavery," Mr. Matthews begins. "One of the most wretched crimes of the human race."

"You know," Farkle says. "For a history teacher, you sure like to mess with the order of events."

Mr. Matthews glances at me before saying, "I have my reasons." Then he focuses his attention back to the class. "African Americans were forced to spend their lives for the work of another, written down as property and unworthy of the natural rights John Locke promised. How could they handle that treatment? What made them want to survive?"

"Hope," Riley says, popping the "p."

"Hope for what exactly?"

"Hope for the chariot to come."

"And where did you get that metaphor, Riley?"

She smiles, finally understanding what her dad wants her to say. "Oh! Religion. They had hope because they believed in what their religion taught."

Matthews nods approvingly at Riley, then asks the class who is Christian. A third of the class raise their hands, including Lucas and Riley. Then he asks who is Muslim. A student in the back tells him she is. Matthews goes down a list before he says, "Who here is an atheist?" Farkle and I are the only ones who raise their hands. He looks at us softly and says, "And why are you an atheist?"

"I don't believe in what I don't see," Farkle replies. That's all there is to it, so I shrug in agreement.

"Do you think that everyone else in this class sees whoever they pray to?"

I look around at each individual face that shines a unique light, and I respond, "Maybe they do."

"Peaches," Riley says. "I don't."

"Then why bother?" Farkle asks.

Riley smiles at her desk sadly. "Sometimes, when I'm in my room all alone, I become overwhelmed by how different I am compared to everyone, how no one can see me as just another human being. Then I remember that God has a plan for me, and if he made people see me as someone special, then maybe I am. Maybe I'm destined to do great things."

"I already know you're special, Riles," I say. "And you should too. You don't need a man who may not exist to tell you that."

"There it is," Matthews says.

I turn to him with a raised brow. "What?"

"You said may. Do you have any proof that God isn't real, Maya?"

I frown. "No, but-"

"Maya," he interrupts. "My point is that the future is uncertain; there aren't any guarantees. But that means something good can happen too. You just have to let it."

My heart beats ecstatically, yelling at me to hope, but my brain screams no, no, no, no. "Easier said than done, Matthews," I say, revealing none of the turmoil inside.

"I know," he admits with a small smile. "But you'll get there."

. . .

Today, my mom and I are going to convince our boss to give us shorter hours, though I don't think he'll argue. He's always concerned about us, and now that we have a chance to work less, I think he'll agree without even letting us finish our sentence.

I wipe down the counter while my mom waits the tables with Veronica. My small hands take a long time to cover the wide counter with disinfectant, and my arms are so short that I have to jump up to reach the other side. I do this about ten times before I hear a chuckle next to me. I turn to see Lucas watching me with an amused expression. I huff and say, "At least I'm self-sufficient."

He shrugs. "Sure, but you're not necessarily efficient."

"Shut up, Huckleberry."

He sits down and takes papers out of his backpack. Usually, he hangs out with Farkle after school, but Farkle has debate right now. I lean over to say something, but then curse myself because I _just_ cleaned that spot. I rub at my mark furiously, and Lucas laughs. He says, "It doesn't have to be perfect, you know."

My nose twitches. "I spent two minutes wiping this counter. I am not going to waste my effort."

"Fair enough," he says and starts his homework.

When I notice our conversation ended, I ask the mandatory question. "So you gonna order something or what?"

He looks up at me and blinks. "I have to?"

I roll my eyes. "Unless you want to loiter."

He looks like a lost puppy with that scared, sheepish expression. It's kind of cute, really. "Um...well, I don't know what I want."

I sigh. "Just order something, Ranger Rick. I don't have all day."

He purses his lips. "What do you want?"

I raise a brow. "Why me?"

"Well, I don't want anything, and you're working, so I figured whenever you wish to, you can come by to eat or drink what I have." It's a long-winded sentence, but he says it smoothly, as if it were short.

"Hm...okay. I'll just get myself a strawberry banana smoothie then. I'll be right back."

I'm not really sure why I feel a tingle travel up my spine when he says he'll still be here. Hearing those words in a different context is understandable, but we're in a freaking greasy diner.

"Is that Lucas?" Veronica asks, coming into the kitchen while I pour smoothie into my favorite cup. I glance to where she's looking out the interior window. Lucas squints at his homework, and I face Veronica again. "Yeah," I reply. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing," she says slyly, grabbing a plate with a huge burger. "He was just staring at you."

I do not visibly react, but inside I'm cursing Veronica for being a multi-tasker. I wish she could just focus on her work instead of me. She laughs as I leave without saying anything, calling out, "I approve!"

Lucas looks at me quizzically. "What does she approve of?"

I slide over the glass to him and answer, "Of you."

He straightens in his seat, putting down his pencil. "Why?"

"Because you're paying for my drink," I tease, though he doesn't notice.

He chuckles and shakes his head, picking his pencil up again. "It's not a big deal."

I quickly take a sip and head to a table where a couple is animatedly talking. I say over my shoulder, "Well it is for me."

Throughout the rest of my shift, Lucas stays in that spot. He does his homework, and when I finish my smoothie, he orders another one. Veronica looks between him and me with a knowing smirk, but I pay her no attention. I've never been one to let another's perception of me change how I act.

When the diner is about to close, and Lucas is still there, I go up to him and say, "You can't stay."

He frowns. "But I want to be here for you when you talk to your boss."

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

He seems troubled with my suggestion, but then he grins like he got an idea. "What if I help you close up?"

I scrunch my face up. "Why do you want to know so badly, Quick Draw?" I ignore the thoughts of what I wish he would say. I shouldn't even wish for them.

"Ma would come to argue with your boss and embarrass me," he replies frankly. "Then she would put me in the shed for not arguing with him myself."

I snort. "Put you in the shed?"

Lucas purses his lips. "I'm not joking, Maya."

"Oh. Then feel free to clean up while I talk to my boss," I say as I head to my manager's office.

"Wait! I said I would _help_ you." His voice fades the farther I get from him.

My mom starts walking next to me, and I take a deep breath because let's be honest: asking for favors is some scary shit. Mom squeezes my hand momentarily, and we knock on Mr. Kingsley's door. "Come in," he says. We do as we're told and find him at his desk, staring at his computer. Mom says, "Sorry. Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all," he responds. "I was just looking at old family photos." Mr. Kingsley is a divorcee. His wife demanded a separation when she asked him to choose between the family or work. Needless to say, he chose work, but not because he's obsessed with diners. He knows the type of people who work at Nighthawk and strives to help us get to better living standards. Now that he's divorced, he is even more determined to help us.

My mom smiles at him sadly, understanding how he feels. "Well, we have a request, if you don't mind us asking."

He gestures for us to sit. "Ask away."

"Well," Mom begins. "How do I put this without sounding strange? Um...sorry, I'm taking your time."

I suppress a groan. I can't believe my mom is stalling our future. I mean, I'm scared too, but I'm completely ready to move out of the dingy house with a roof that leaks. I blurt out, "May we work for shorter hours?" Mom seems relieved that she didn't have to say it, that she can blame my youth for an audacious request, so I continue. "We were offered a chance to have a less stressful fiscal life." I cringe inwardly at my lame attempt at professionalism.

Mr. Kingsley's face lights up like that's the best news he's heard all day. "You most definitely can work less hours. Honestly, the time you spend here concerns me. Not that I don't enjoy your company! I mean-"

My mom laughs softly. "It's okay, Mr. Kingsley. We understand."

He smiles and abruptly gets up, apologizing for startling us, and rummages through his drawers. He takes out a binder, sits back down, and flips through a few pages before stopping. "Ms. Mother Hart, does eight to seven sound okay to you?"

Mom sighs, releasing all the exhaustion she kept inside for eleven years. "That sounds wonderful. Thank you."

Mr. Kingsley nods, writing this down. "Maya?"

"Yes?"

"How does four to seven sound?"

I lean back in my chair and woot before realizing how rude that is. I sit back up and say, "That sounds like a dream come true."

He grins. "I'm glad it does, but do you mind closing up for today? This will be the last time, I promise."

"Of course we will," my mom says and gets up. "Thank you very much, Mr. Kingsley."

I follow suit. "Yeah, thank you very much." I don't think I've ever been so happy in my life.

His eyes brighten as he says, "It's my pleasure."

Mom and I leave to help Veronica and Lucas but find that they're already done. Veronica crosses her arms proudly as though she was right about something while Lucas squirms in his seat. To break up the tension, I say, "I was joking when I told you to do my work."

His head snaps to mine, relief flickering across his face. "Well, there wasn't anything for me to do anyway."

I smirk. "And your ma would have put you in the shed if you didn't help."

He grins. "That too."

I smile back, and he gets this look in his eyes, this look that I've never gotten before. It awakens me. I feel as if he's trying to fill some hollow part of me when all he's doing is staring at me. But if that's all, why can't I look away?

Veronica claps her hands together, and I instinctively take a step back. I didn't realize I was standing so close to Lucas. She says, "So I take it you two are going to live with each other now?"

My mom watches me skeptically, but answers Veronica. "Yes, we got the okay."

Veronica laughs. "Good luck with that."

I look at Lucas who turns to me at the same time. He asks, "So this is it?"

I scrunch up my nose and reply, "So this is it."

The grin he gives does not make my heart flutter, does not make my heart flutter, does not make my heart flutter.

It makes my heart flutter like a butterfly learning how to hope.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you to Guest and whoever else who understands that school gets in the way of my posting. I also really appreciate the compliment! And thank you, Katy Lucas, for your kind words~**

 **I have no homework today, so I figured I could update ^-^ I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **P. S. Can anyone tell me why people say a pair of jeans when the jeans are the entire pants?**

Chapter 10: Lucas POV

I wake up to a cloudy Saturday, which is good because Maya and Ms. Hart are moving in today. Even though I grew up on a farm, I still hate working in the sun. The heat just makes the work seem longer than it is, and I would love for Maya to move in as quickly as possible. Ms. Hart, too, of course.

I get up and go to the kitchen. I grab the cereal box, pour it in a bowl, and add some milk. Ma comes out from her room and says while stretching her arms, "You're up early."

I choke, trying to swallow the food stuck in my throat. "Yeah, well, we have to be at Maya and her ma's house on time," I say.

Ma laughs and pats my shoulder lightly albeit patronizingly. "Of course, dear."

I frown, but Ma ignores me. She just makes herself a bowl of cereal and sits next to me. There's silence, but I feel as though she wants to fill it. It could be the fact that I'm excited, but I still ask, "What is it, Ma?"

I'm just happy to see my boy happy," she replies, reaching out to ruffle my hair.

I duck out of the way. "Ma...promise me you won't make it obvious that I like her?"

She smiles gently, and I think she'll agree, but then she says, "I can't promise that, Lucas."

I groan. "First Veronica, and now you."

Ma watches me, amused. "Who's Veronica?"

"A waitress at the diner who found out I like Maya. I don't even know how. She didn't even ask me; she just walked up to me and said, 'You like Maya.'"

Ma starts laughing, and I keep saying "what? What?" until she answers, "Oh, just the I-will-never-love-anyone Lucas falling in love."

My mouth twitches to smile because I don't know how else to react. But I don't mind. I used to prefer the fear of regret over the fear of a broken heart, but looking at Maya makes me wonder how I could ever do that. It also makes me wonder how I can like someone so much so easily, but Ma and Zay finally convinced me not to care.

I finish my cereal and stand up. I put my bowl in the sink, kissing Ma's cheek along the way. I head to my room to change, and I don't even bother hiding the grin forming on my face. It's strange to hope when you didn't before.

I whistle as I change out of my pajamas and into a pair of jeans and a blue shirt. I fix my bed, making sure I don't collapse on top of it because today's not the day to fall back asleep. Ma knocks on the door and comes in smiling. "I haven't heard you whistle that tune in many years," she notes. She hasn't heard my voice in many years, but I don't point that out. Instead, I just say, "It just feels right right now."

"I'm sure it does," she agrees. "Now get to the bathroom because I need to use it."

She leaves, and I do as I'm told. I silently thank Ma for having such a clean house because I'd hate inviting someone to live in a squalor. I fidget as I brush my teeth, making myself worry that I'll lose all my self-control. I gurgle in frustration. I don't want to scare Maya and Ms. Hart away just because I don't know how to handle new emotions.

I get out of the bathroom and realize I don't know what to do for another half hour. I pray that Zay's awake and at home and text him, asking if he wants to Skype. After pacing the living room and fluffing the pillows on the couch for five minutes, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and take it out. "Ye," he answers.

When he picks up, instead of a greeting, Zay says, "So today's the day."

I roll my eyes, something I only do to him. "Good morning to you, too, buddy."

"Mornin'. So today's the day."

"Yeah. It is."

"Are you excited, man?" he asks with a smirk. He already knows the answer.

I frown. "Why must you tease me?"

"C'mon, Lucas. Don't act like it's not the best thing about me."

I chuckle. "Whatever."

He groans. "You're so lucky."

I will never hear the end of it if I agree, so I just shrug. "I guess."

"Boy, don't give me that nonchalance! I like seeing you smile like an idiot."

"Thanks. I like seeing you _be_ an idiot."

"Love ya, too, man," he says then claps his hands together. "So! Will I ever meet the Blonde Beauty?"

"You mean in person?" I ask. That would surely be an experience. Maya would probably punch him in the stomach by the end of it. The image makes me chuckle.

"Are you kidding? I can't wait that long. I meant over Skype."

I can't deny that I'm disappointed because I really wanted to see Maya sock Zay. "Sure," I reply. "Tonight?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. Listen, I have to go now. See you and the Blonde Beauty later." He starts cackling, so I hang up without telling him bye. He might yell at me for it the next time we speak, but I kind of freaked out, and that was my first instinct. It's a weird, atypical development, having your crush move in with you. It doesn't happen to most people, and last night, I thanked God for His gift.

Ma knocks on my door and comes in. "Lucas, are you ready to go?"

I grin. "Today's the day."

. . .

I knock on the door and rock on my heels, and Ma loops her arm through mine to stop my movement, but it does little to help. Maya's ma opens the door with a tired smile and says, "Good morning. We're just about ready."

Ma notices the strained muscles on Ms. Hart's face and asks, "Are you sure? We can wait longer if you would like."

"Well, Maya hasn't come out of her room yet… I don't know why. Do you mind coming in?"

"Not at all," Ma replies, and we step inside. I immediately notice how empty the apartment is. I wonder how bittersweet it is to look around your childhood home and think, _I'm not going to live here anymore._ I can picture so clearly that I ask Ms. Hart, "May I try to speak to Maya?"

She sighs and smiles gratefully. "Yes you may. Thank you. Her room is the third to the right."

"No problem," I say and leave. When I get to where Ms. Hart directed me to, I knock lightly on the door. Maya's voice is faint as she says, "I'll be right out, Mom."

"It's Lucas," I say. I don't receive a response, which I take a yes, so I open the door. Maya is staring out the window and doesn't acknowledge me, so I say lamely, "Hey."

She doesn't greet me, just says, "I'm so stupid."

"Why would you think that?"

"I was so ecstatic to move out - don't get me wrong; I still am - but do you know what I thought when I got up this morning?" I note that she's still in her pajamas but don't answer, knowing that's a rhetorical question. "I thought, 'He won't be able to find us.'" I don't need to ask her who "he" is and let her continue. "But why should I care if he finds us? He left so long ago that I can't even remember how his voice sounds. I don't need him… I don't."

"You don't," I confirm, now standing behind her.

She turns to me with red-rimmed eyes. "So why do I want him to come back?"

I brush her hair out of her face and cup my hand on her cheek, and she instinctively presses herself further into my palm. "Because once you love someone, it's hard to stop," I reply.

"How can I love him if I'm pissed at him?"

"Well, the opposite of anger is happiness, not love. You can love him even when you're mad at him."

Her lips quiver, and a single tear falls, which I wipe away gently. "Do you love your dad?"

I look down at our feet, not even debating this response. "Yeah," I whisper.

She watches me, eyes flickering over every contour of my face. Then she slips her arms around my waist and buries her own face in my chest. I can feel her shake, so I wrap my arms around her and tighten my hold. "I," she stutters. "I don't want the thought of him to hurt me anymore."

I rest my chin on top of her head. "One day, it won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're a fighter, Maya. You can get through anything."

She leans back slightly and studies me. Then she tilts her head and kisses my cheek softly. "Thank you," she says, and before I can react or respond or _something,_ she turns her head to look out the window again. "I'm going to miss this view."

I turn to look at where she is and see many people walk by, everyone waving at Maya. She lifts one arm from my waist and waves back. As embarrassed as I am to be caught in such an intimate moment, I don't let go. Actually, I wave at them too. They seem confused at first, but then they grin and reply. I look back at Maya and say, "I would miss this view, too. But we have a great window of our own."

She slowly smiles, and that's enough to make me relieved. Then she pulls herself out of our embrace, and my arms fall limply by my sides. "Well, we should go now."

I nod. "Okay."

She leaves first, grabbing my hand and tugging me behind her. I hold on, too, and I swear I can see her smile grow, even if it's just a little. When we get to the living room, her ma walks up to Maya, and Maya lets go of my hand to hug her. I hear her whisper, "Sorry, Mom, but I'm okay now."

Ms. Hart looks up at me and mouths a thank-you. I mouth back a "no problem" and stand next to Ma. She says, "My, how you've grown, Lucas."

I smile at her as Maya and Ms. Hart come up to us with their bags in their hands. I grab their stuff from them, ignoring their protests, and head to the car Ma rented. (She insisted on getting one because she didn't want me carrying their luggage the entire time like I did when I came to New York.) Only when I set the bags in the trunk do I realize that they don't have much to bring with them, and I frown. But when Maya adds her guitar to the collection, my smile returns. I can't wait to hear her play.

Ma and Ms. Hart sit in the front, and Maya and I sit in the back. After we buckle ourselves in, Ms. Hart says, "Today's the day."

Maya looks at me, and I stare back, trying to figure out what's going on in that unique mind of hers. "Today's the day," she finally agrees.

. . .

Ma helps Ms. Hart bring her luggage into the house, and I stand behind Maya as she takes her guitar out of the trunk and reach up to close the trunk when she turns around. I hold my hand out to the instrument tentatively in case she's an overprotective musician, and she glances at it before bringing her eyes to mine and smirking. She laces her fingers through mine, and although I'm shocked, I don't complain. I hold her hand even when I open the door, using my elbow to turn the knob. I lead her to her room, which is extremely plain. She sets down her guitar and spins around, taking the entire room in, and I feel compelled to say, "I know it's not much, but - "

"Are you kidding?" she exclaims and falls on to the bed. "The ceiling doesn't leak; the mattress doesn't squeak; and the walls are bare, so I can paint them - " She stops abruptly and sits up to look at me. "May I paint the walls?"

I was grinning at her exuberance, and I still grin now even if I have no idea how this innocence in her suddenly appeared. "I'm sure Ma would love that. You paint?"

She smiles back. "Art is the only thing that makes me feel all that I can't."

"Such as?" I ask, sitting next to her.

She brings her legs up and circles her arms around them. "You sure you want to know what lies inside the void of Maya Hart? It's darker than my Dungeon of Sadness."

"Dungeon of Sadness?"

"Yeah, I have Josh and a whole flock of ballerinas in there."

"Ballerinas?"

"Yep," she says and drops her cheek on her knee, gazing up at me. "When I was around seven or eight, I wanted to be a ballerina after watching _The Nutcracker_ with Riley, so my mom took me to the school a town over from where we live." She looks at me as if considering something. "Well, lived… Anyway, they told her how much tuition cost, and she looked down at me and said with a sad smile, 'Sorry, Babygirl.' As she led me out of the building, I tugged my hand out of hers and demanded to be let in. I yelled at the teacher and the students who all watched me with disdain. My mom pulled me away, apologizing profusely to everyone, and to this day, I resent not being able to do anything."

"Wow," I say. "You really wanted to be a ballerina."

Maya seems appalled by this statement, and I'm about to say sorry when she says, "You think that I care about myself? No, I just hate seeing that expression on my mom's face, the one that said, 'I'll never make my babygirl happy.'" She lies back down on the bed and covers her eyes with her forearm. I follow suit and say softly to the ceiling, "You should care about yourself."

She stares at me; I can feel it. "Why?" she whispers.

"Because you're a person, and a special one at that."

She stays silent for a few minutes before: "You just keep complimenting me today, Huckleberry."

Now I turn to her, and she scrunches her nose at me. I say, "Well, you're making it very easy, Shortstack."

She rolls her eyes at the nickname. "Am not."

"Are to."

"Am not."

"Are to."

"Am not."

There's a knock on the door, and we both lean on our forearms to see who it is. It's Maya's mom, so I automatically sit up straight on the edge of the bed away from Maya.

"Hello, Ms. Hart."

She chuckles. "You don't need to be afraid of me, Lucas. I'm just an average thirty-six-year-old lady who's checking up on her daughter." She glances around the room and says, "Babygirl, you should unpack."

Maya jumps up from the bed. "Okay." When Ms. Hart leaves, Maya says, "I'm lassoing you in, Cowboy. Help me." She slides on the carpet to her bag and unzips it. I sit next to her, and she hands me haphazardly folded clothing. I quirk a brow at her to which she shrugs. "What?"

"Move aside," I reply, and she rolls away. I take out all the shirts she has and neatly put them in the second compartment of the drawer. Then I place her skirts and jeans in the bottom. I look inside the bag and grimace, pushing it back to her. Maya doesn't even have to peer inside to know why I'm giving it back to her. She laughs and says, "I dare you, Hopalong."

Maybe it's the mischievous glint in her eyes, or maybe it's the playful smirk shaping her lips, but I feel brave enough to take the bag back and pull out the bras. She cracks up as I tentatively put them in the top of the drawer along with her socks and underwear. She wipes at her eyes when I finish. "You're just too much for me, Hee Haw."

"You know, most girls would be embarrassed to have a guy touch their...personal belongings."

"Well, what's there to hide? You know I wear them." Then she grins. "Plus, it's great seeing you all flustered."

I blush. "Shut up."

She fake-gasps. "Where are your manners, Ranger Rick? You are in the presence of a lady!"

"Ladies don't show men their bras."

She smirks. "Now was that so hard to say?" Before I can answer, she grabs her backpack and pulls out a notebook. She waves it in front of me with a pout. "Help me?"

I scoot closer to her. "Sure. What is it?"

"Pre-Cal."

I frown. "I will help, but I warn you my freshman math teacher back in Texas was crappy at his job."

"I don't care; I just need answers."

"That's not how we learn, Maya."

"Then teach me, Lucas the Good."

"Okay." I go over to the bed and sit so that my back is against it. When Maya just looks at me, I say, "Come here. I promise you I don't bite."

She does as she's told and, out of nowhere, pushes me to the floor. I just blink at her to which she says, "Don't worry. I know how to protect myself."

. . .

Three and a half hours later, Maya feels confident in her math skills, and Ma suggests going shopping for Maya's and Ms. Hart's room. Maya gets up faster than me waking up to do chores. She shyly asks Ma if she can paint her room, and Ma grins, telling her that she would love to see art up close. We take the train to the mall downtown, and Maya buzzes around with glee. I watch her fondly, not even trying to disguise it with amusement. I don't care who notices I like her; I just don't want her to run away from me.

When we get to the store, Maya studies every curtain, pillowcase, and bedsheet in wonder. She touches every fabric of every color and admires them. Ms. Hart settles on the color scheme of light blue and white while Maya settles on lavender and pastel yellow. The purity of their smiles warms my heart, and I'm glad they're living with Ma and me because we'll make sure that never goes away again.

. . .

After dinner, I ask Maya if she wants to meet my best friend. She responds that she's excited to see who could ever be friends with "Quick Draw," and I laugh because after the Skype call is over, I'm sure she's going to ask how anyone could be friends with Isaiah Babineaux. The guy's awesome, but he's also insane.

We sit on my bed with our backs against the wall. My laptop is very new, so I have no trouble getting on, and right when I do, Zay calls. I click to answer, and he grins at me. "Where is she?"

"Zay," I say. This is just like this morning.

"Howdy," he says only to appease me. "Where is she?"

"I'm right here," Maya replies, shifting to be in the video.

"Hot damn. Lucas, my boy, she _is_ a Blonde Beauty." I freeze. Maybe she didn't hear. Maybe his voice got muffled. I mean, we _are_ talking over the Internet.

No such luck for Lucas Friar. Maya smirks but focuses her attention on Zay. "Blonde Beauty, you say?"

"Oh, not just me, dear. I quoted that from the boy next to you."

I slap my forehead so hard that I'm sure it's as red as my ears. I might just lost it one day if I spend more time with this guy.

" _Anyway,_ " I interrupt. "How's school, Zay?"

"Okay, okay, I think I figured out how to ask Vanessa to go to homecoming with me."

I frown. "Homecoming isn't for another month."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure a lot of guys are planning to ask her, so I gotta be ahead of the game, man."

Maya asks, "Does Vanessa like you back?"

"No," Zay admits. "But - "

"Then why bother?"

"Because she's the hottest girl in school?"

"Well, she's also nice and friendly, I guess."

Maya sighs. "Dude, if you don't even have a more profound reason to like this girl, then you shouldn't put so much effort in trying to get with her. And even if you do have one, and you just don't want to tell me because we just met, why would you pursue someone who can't like you for who you are? Why would you pursue someone who needs grand gestures to fall in love with you? I don't know anything about you, but I know that if Huckleberry here cares about you, you must be a good guy, and good guys deserve more than a superficial love."

Zay looks at Maya with awe, and I grin at her. She delivers a compelling argument, and despite Zay being the most stubborn person I've ever met, I can see she got to him. He faces me and says, "Lucas, I really like this girl."

Maya laughs.

After two hours of the three of us bonding over Skype, I shutdown my laptop. I turn to Maya to find her staring at me. She watches me skeptically, so I ask, "What?"

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

She seems so vulnerable at this moment, sinking into the mattress and making herself appear smaller than she could ever be. So I tell her the truth. "I don't lie."

She tilts her head and absorbs my words. Then a small smile spreads across her face, and she says, "No one has ever told me that."

"Well, it's true," I say matter-of-factly.

She grins and take me off guard by kissing me. It lasts only a second, so short I can't react _again_ , and when she pulls back, she says, "That's just a thank-you for everything you've done today. Don't expect it to happen again, Hee Haw."

Is it conceited to think that she's lying?


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed and told me why we call a pair of jeans "a pair of jeans." (Wow, the grammar there is so confusing; I probably shouldn't have even put the quotes. Speaking of grammar, I'm sorry if my typos or lazy proofreading bothers you! Hopefully that didn't ruin your experience reading my story Dx)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the books or movies I include in this fan fiction, but I do recommend** ** _Far and Away._** **If you watched it, you'll know what scenes I'm talking about, and if you haven't, being confused is also fun xD**

Chapter Eleven: Maya POV

I wake up in a room with blank walls, marking a new beginning. I lie there for a while to absorb this moment and etch it into my skin. It's like how watching the sun rise over the horizon is better than the sun itself.

I remember that Mom hasn't gone to work yet, so I fling myself out of my bed and rush out to the dining room where I can smell homemade eggs and pancakes. I hear two unfamiliar laughs and turn my head to see Mom and Layla. Layla's laugh is like her: daring, proud, and vivacious. She may be small, but she's strong. And Mom's laugh...well, I honestly would have been okay with anything. She could have guffawed, and I would have grinned because no matter how she sounds, I'm happy knowing she's happy.

Layla notices me first. "Come in, Maya," she invites with a smile. "Lucas isn't up yet, so we can have girl time."

Hearing Lucas' name makes me trip. I remember last night, how I was foolhardy. I don't know what overcame me. He was just so kind to me, and he looked at me like I meant something, and he didn't judge me for the crappy person that I am, and I just wanted to kiss him for everything he is that I never knew could be in a person.

Mom and Layla look at me weirdly because I literally stumbled over nothing, so I try to act nonchalant by asking, "What can I do?"

"Want to make cute faces on the pancakes?" Mom replies.

I grin. "Oh, I would be delighted to."

Mom scoots over for me to have room, and I get to work. On Layla's pancake, I place the strawberries in a shy, grateful smile for obvious reasons, and add whip cream in the shapes of rainbows for the eyes. For Mom, I outline a heart with strawberries and fill it in with blueberries because she doesn't like sweets. On Lucas' pancake, I go all out. I use the whip cream to trace a cowboy in a broad rimmed hat shooting a gun and put blueberries in a parabola (damn the Huckleberry for making me think mathematically) to mimic bullets. Although it's graphic, I place a strawberry right where the final blueberry is and snicker at my masterpiece. Mom looks over and rolls her eyes as if to say, "Oh, what have I given birth to?" Layla wonders what my mom is looking at, so she leans forward and laughs. She says, "That's really cute, Maya."

I smile. "Thanks."

Lucas comes lumbering out of the hallway, rubbing his eyes when he stands in the doorway. He sees the three of us, blinks, then frowns. "Did I wake up too late?"

I smirk. "No, you're just on time." I gesture for him to sit down and slide him his plate when he does. He looks down and furrows his eyebrows before widening his eyes and cracking up. "I'm glad I'm worth all this effort," he remarks. He grabs the knife and carefully cuts around the cowboy. I smile at the way he seems so focused on making his way around the body and sit next to him, sipping my milk. He notices me watching him and says, "What? Cannibalism is looked down upon."

I pout. "So you're not going to eat it?"

He grins. "Now, I never said that..."

I twist my face in faux disgust. "You're like Hannibal."

His jaw slightly drops. "You watch that show?"

"No, but Farkle does. He's fascinated by Hannibal's mind. But what's so strange about me watching that show?" I scoff playfully.

"I just didn't think you like to watch stuff with death in it."

"I hate to break it to you, Cowboy, but most visual entertainment has death in it."

"The operative word being 'most.'"

"How about straying from the topic of death while we eat?" Layla advises.

Lucas and I look at her and Mom in surprise. I guess he didn't realize they were sitting with us, too. He says, "Sorry, Ma."

We settle in a comfortable silence, but it's so different from the Matthews' house that I squirm. I feel like the hungry caterpillar, eating and wiggling. The image of my face on that creature makes me laugh, and everyone turns to me with curious expressions. I shake my head and say, "It's a weird train of thought."

Because we all finished our breakfast, Lucas gets up and grabs everyone's dishes. He says as he walks to the sink, "Well I expect that from someone who calls me a bunch of random nicknames."

I roll my eyes. "They're not _that_ random."

"They're random enough to make me question how you thought of them," he says and moves to the living room.

I follow him with a comeback on the tip of my tongue only to find him coming back with his mom's purse. We go back to the dining table, and his mom says, "Thanks, Lucas." She gets up, and my mom glances at the clock and says, "Oh, I should go, too." She heads to her room to get her bag, and when she grabs it, she and Lucas' mom leave.

After the door closes, I walk over to where Lucas is on the couch. I tell him, "I'm going to Riley's house now. Want to come with?"

He blinks at me. "You want me to join you and Riley?"

"Well I wouldn't offer it otherwise, now would I, Ranger Rick?"

He grins. "Then I do want to go," he says and stands up, and we go to our respective rooms. After a small debate, I pull on brown bell-bottom pants, a white V-neck, and a jean jacket and migrate to the bathroom just as Lucas opens the door. I scrunch my face at him and say, "I'm not going any faster for you."

He laughs. "Be my guest. I'll be in my room."

I close the door behind me, and after I brush my teeth, I apply my make-up, adding butterfly wings on my eyelids because that shit is awesome and makes my eyes pop. When I finish, I knock on Lucas' door, and he comes out with the most wicked smile I've ever seem. "I timed you. You spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, which I think is quite short for a girl."

I punch him, and he laughs as he swats my hand away. "You're such a Huckleberry," I joke. "Let's just go."

Ever the gentleman, Lucas opens the door for me, and I curtsy. He just snorts and lightly pushes me forward, smirking when I stick my tongue out at him. On the train, he stands close to me because there aren't any more seats. People start getting closer, so he puts one of his hands protectively on my waist while gripping the handle attached to the ceiling with the other, and I'm brought back to last night. This time, I don't think about how stupid I was; I remember the actual moment. It was the shortest kiss I ever hand, and he didn't even react, but I still enjoyed it. I enjoyed believing in us for the slightest second because it was the greatest feeling in the world, but that emotion could eventually overwhelm me. Too much of a good thing is dangerous. I get comfortable, more susceptible to having the ground ripped away from me. But moments are easier to handle. I sway, but I don't fall.

I look up at Lucas who is already staring down at me. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing, if he wants moments because forever is too much to ask for. He rests his head on the pole next to us, and I can't help but tease, "Who knows whose hands have touched that?"

He chuckles. "I know you are holding on to it."

"Obviously you don't know how gross I am."

He sighs. "How many times do I need to tell you you're beautiful before you believe me?"

"Well, I don't know because you've never explicitly said it. Zay told me you-"

"You're beautiful, Maya."

I stop mid-sentence and stare at him. He wears a small smile, and I don't know what to do because I won't kiss him again - I refuse to kiss him again - so I say in a southern accent, "Would you say pulchritudinous?"

He laughs. "Yeah, I would, Maya."

I hate that I love the way he says my name.

. . .

"Maya!" Riley exclaims when she sees me. Then she furrows her brow. "And Lucas?"

"Hey, Riley," he greets, using one hand to wave and keeping the other in his pocket. My knees wobble from the sight.

"I hope you don't mind that Hee Haw is joining," I say and climb inside when Riley steps aside. "I felt bad that he was alone."

Lucas comes in, too. "Hey, you said you wanted me here."

"Same difference," I say offhandedly, and he shudders. "What?"

"That is the worst oxymoron anyone has ever made up," he complains.

I smirk, and he stiffens. "Worst, funniest, same difference."

He groans and rubs a hand over his face.

Riley interrupts by grabbing my shoulders and turning me to her. She looks at me frantically as she says, "Maya, I'm having an existential crisis."

"What is it, Riles?"

"Okay, so I don't know how I feel about Farkle, right? Well I thought I could do stuff to help me figure it out, and I say 'stuff' because I don't know what 'stuff' even means. Stare? Flirt? Talk?"

"Be yourself, and don't think about it too much," Lucas offers.

Riley glances at him and then back at me, biting her lip. I say bluntly, "I agree with Sundance here. Thinking too much is an endless loop that wastes your years until you realize that you should have just set yourself free."

She watches me, then says softly, "Why must you be a hypocrite, Maya? You're a kind but lost hypocrite, and I wish you believed in your own words."

Suddenly, I feel Lucas' presence more distinctly. "We're not focusing on me; we're focusing on you."

She purses her lips. "Should I call and invite him over to watch a movie?"

I shrug. "It's all up to you, honey."

After a second of internal debate, Riley hugs me and says, "Thank you, Peaches." She lets go of me and looks at Lucas. "Thank you, too."

When she leaves, I lean back against the pillows and watch Lucas as he plays with his fingers. I ask him, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" he responds, not even stopping his motions.

"Twirl your fingers."

He looks down at his hands, then wipes them on his pants. "It's just a habit. After so many fist-to-face contact, I can't keep my hands still."

"Oh."

It's quiet for a beat. Then: "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You give advice, but never follow it."

I sigh. You ask a personal question, and in return, you answer one. I wonder if he knows what, or rather _who,_ Riley was referring to. "Never is a strong word, Quick Draw."

"Then tell me when you have."

"I told you what happened with Josh."

"Anyone else, Maya? _Anything_ else?" I don't have a response to that, so he continues. "Shortstack, you can't let one event affect the course of the rest of your life."

"Well that's how it works, doesn't it?" I argue. "We give in and hope for something with all of our hearts, then it falls apart right before our eyes, and then what? I get up only to get shot down again? I'm not capable of handling so much disappointment, Lucas."

He sighs and takes my hands in his, entwining our fingers. I stare at our conjoined hands, noting how perfectly they fit together, and he tilts his head so he can still see my eyes. "You expect too much of yourself. There's a break in between one event and another; you just have to allow yourself a moment to breathe."

"Time keeps moving forward even if I sit out for a while," I say and inhale sharply when he presses his lips to each of my knuckles. My skin tingles where he touches it, and he says, "And that's why there's a tomorrow."

Then Riley steps in, and by the expression she has, she heard the entire conversation. "Farkle is on his way. He should be here right about-" The doorbell rings. "-now."

"It's like you have a Farkle detector," Lucas jokes.

She giggles. "I might have one." If she weren't my best friend, she would have creeped me out with that statement.

Lucas and I trail behind Riley as she goes to answer the door. My hand feels cold without his, but they always do when no one touches it.

Riley opens the door and hugs Farkle while saying his name cheerfully. "Hi, guys," he says as he lets go of a tomato red Riley. "So I hear we're watching a movie?"

"Not just any movie," Riley sings.

"Could it be?" I ask with a dramatic gasp.

"Oh no," Farkle says. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"What?" Lucas says, baffled.

"Riley and Maya love the movie _Far and Away,_ but I think the ending is stupid."

"The movie is pretty good in my opinion," Lucas admits without any shame.

Farkle leans away from him with his features twisted, and I whoop while Riley squeals and hugs Lucas. He chuckles and shrugs when she releases him. Riley grins at Farkle and says, "So it's settled."

He sighs and mutters, "It already was." Not that it mattered anyway. Farkle Minkus would do anything for Riley Matthews.

. . .

"Hey, Lucas," Farkle says. "Joseph is like you."

"How?"

"He fights people regardless of his wish not to."

"Farkle...," Riley warns, but Lucas just laughs. He says, "I guess."

. . .

"The bowl, Farkle!" I yell. "The bowl!"

"The bowl?" Riley asks as Farkle grabs the first thing to hide the screen from her view. Popcorn flies everywhere.

"...Are you eating popcorn from her hair?" Lucas asks him, leaning closer to me.

"Got a problem with that, Pretty Boy?"

"No, no..."

. . .

"Yes, Joseph!" Riley exclaims. "Go back to Shannon!"

"Shannon is so annoying," Farkle mutters.

"My spoons!" I mimic, laughing. "My spoons!"

"Is this a comedy to you?" Lucas asks me without malice.

"Some parts," I admit. "But I mainly think this story is sweet."

"And hopeful?" Riley says with a tilt of her head.

I glance at Lucas who studies me. I turn back to her. "That, too."

. . .

"The tables have turned, Shannon," Farkle says. "The tables have freaking turned."

"It's so sad," Riley cries.

"Well," I begin, "she should learn what it's like to be poor."

"Do you guys always talk this much during movies?" Lucas asks.

"Yes," we answer in unison.

. . .

"Ugh, political machines," I grumble.

"Aw," Riley gushes. "You remember the term. Daddy would be so proud."

"I'm not an idiot, Riles."

"I know. I just like to mess with you."

. . .

"Ohmygoshtheykissed," Riley says in glee.

The corner of Farkle's lip twitches upward, and he glances between her eyes and her lips. I'm lying against Lucas' chest, so he just turns his head to whisper in my ear, "Is your heart beating faster, too?"

"What? Why?" I ask and repeat the questions.

He chuckles. "I just pegged you as the romantic type."

I look up at him, and he watches me with a grin and eyebrows raised. I scrunch up my face and reply, "Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not."

I need to control my feelings because I swear I hear him mumble, "I'll be waiting for when you know."

And yes, Lucas. My heart is beating faster.

. . .

"Don't leave her, Joseph!" Riley wails. I forgot how passionate we get about this movie.

"Love is about sacrifice," Farkle says, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him. His voice is soft, and when he looks at me, I hope he can see all I'm trying to convey. _You don't need to sacrifice yourself for her, Farks. I'm already doing that for everyone._

. . .

"That's the cutest moment ever," says Riley.

"I literally have no idea what he just complimented her with," Lucas says.

"It's all about the emotion, Hopalong," I say. "You don't need to know."

"How unscientific," Farkle says matter-of-factly.

"We can't always be scientists, Farkle," Riley says.

. . .

Riley squeals, and Farkle cracks up. "He has risen," I say, then start chanting a bunch of gibberish. Lucas watches us like we're crazy, which we are, so I take no offense.

When the movie ends, Lucas says, "I remember the first time I watched _Far and Away,_ I thought it would have a tragic ending. I used to be so pissed that didn't happen."

I raise my brow. "Are you secretly a sadist, Ranger Rick?"

He frowns. "No, I just don't like people messing with my emotions."

"Me neither, but I hate wasting my time."

"What do you mean?"

I scoff and respond, "Why the hell would I invest my time on something with a sad ending? I already have life for that."

"Oh, Peaches," Riley says. "You live because some part of you knows you'll get a happy ending. I mean, you have me." She winks.

"And me," Farkle adds as he and Riley scoot closer.

I smile uncertainly at them and turn to Lucas. His eyes reach the depths of my very soul, and he says, "I'm not going anywhere, Maya."

A flash of doubt flickers across my face, and they all tack me. I laugh and let what I was about to say go. I'll save my argument for next time.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Only four more chapters left! Including this one o.o Wow, time flies. I hope I don't rush this story too much because that would suck. I read my other story,** ** _Don't Change My Mind,_** **and I have no idea what I was thinking LOL. I might think the same thing when I reread this; I might not. That's how we grow as authors. Anyways, thanks for all the support and love you guys give, and thanks for sticking with this story ^-^**

Chapter Twelve: Lucas POV

 _The Last Saturday of September_

Ma and Ms. Hart can't come home. Ma called to tell me that it's raining so hard that the train tracks are too slippery to ride on. I turned on the news to make sure she was right, and sure enough, the anchors warned that many subways were closed.

I go over to where Maya stands staring out the window. The image reminds me of the day I helped her move in. My knees would feel weak if Maya didn't keep frowning when lightning struck, or if she didn't keep wincing when thunder boomed. She must sense my anxiety because she says, "I'm fine, Lucas."

The wrinkle in my brow deepens. "How are you fine? You don't look fine."

She shrugs, and I notice that talking seems to distract her from the storm. "I just don't like the rain."

"Why?" I ask, and drag her to the couch away from the window.

"There were nights when thunder shook the apartment, and the lightning was so bright that I thought the world was on fire. I hid under my covers, crying, and my mom came flying into the room and peeked under the covers and decided to make it a game. Once, we were in Alaska looking for gold, and she said the lightning was the northern lights, the Aurora Borealis. She made that night an adventure until the storm passed, and I woke up the next morning, and it was a sunny day."

I frown. "I don't understand. That sounds like a great memory."

She sighs. "When I got older, I could be by myself, so Mom left me alone to work longer shifts. Suddenly there was no one there to protect me or take me somewhere far from the storm."

I recline further into the cushions, causing Maya to roll closer to me. She gazes at me in shock as I ask, "Where would you like me to take you?"

She smiles. "What did you have to mind?"

"An entire adventure, Shortstack," I reply, pulling her off the couch.

"You figured that out in such a short amount of time?" she questions with a quirk of her brow.

"Actually, I've been gathering bits and pieces for some time now." I blush at how creepy that sounds. "N-not that I've been purposefully searching for things we could do together. Sometimes I just walk by stores and think of you." I turn redder. "But I figured maybe you wouldn't want to go with me." Good job, Lucas. Way to play the pity card. "Not that I'm not fun to be around." Conceited much? "And I don't mean you have high standards, but you don't have low standards either." I really should shut up now.

Maya watches me with her jaw partially dropped the entire time, and I think I totally scared or offended her until she bursts out laughing. She clutches at her stomach as she says sarcastically, "You're so smooth, Huckleberry. So smooth."

I quickly leave to go to the cabinet in the hallway filled with board games. Maya is still in the living room, so I motion for her to join me. When she stands next to me, she looks everywhere, searching for one that grabs her attention. I smile at her ebullience and curiosity. Then: "Do you have cards?"

My smile falters, and I stumble backward. She catches me and pulls me forward, surprising me with her strength. Because she's shorter than me, I lean down so closely to her face that we're sharing the same air. My senses turn to high-definition. I notice the thickness of her eyelashes, the brightness of her startling blue eyes, the fullness of her lips, the syncopation of our hearts... It takes some time before I step back and walk to my room. She follows me and sits on my bed as I dig through my closet, and by dig, I mean put things aside carefully.

"Gosh, Hopalong," Maya says. "You're so neat."

"Am I?" I ask rhetorically, still keeping my back to her. Not to sound arrogant, but I am proud of my organization. The drawers have containers to avoid the disastrous mess that comes with rummaging through clothes; the pillows on the bed lie in a way for each to have half the mattress; the photos on the desk are angled specifically so that when I work on it, they all face me. One picture I brought with me from Texas. Pappy Joe stares out at our farm with his hands on his hips and chest puffed out. In the middle is Ma and me on my birthday, both of us smiling with her hands on my shoulders. And on the right is my friends and me. We were at the park, and we asked a stranger to take a picture of us. We posed with our arms around each other's waists when Farkle told us a joke that was actually funny. That man captured the best moment: Riley's face is red from laughter, Farkle's face beams with pride, I just watch everyone, specifically Maya. Maya. Her mouth is agape, showing dimples I never knew she had. She pulls me closer to her as she leans into Riley. I remember how her fingers gripped my side, how the pressure made me feel so alive. I've felt alive before, but that was from anger. Obviously, I prefer happiness over frustration.

"My room is a mess compared to yours," Maya replies. "And despite common belief, I'm not a hoarder."

"From what I've seen, it's a pigsty," I joke. I've hardly ever been in her room because it seems like her safe haven, and I don't want to intrude. But I know Maya well enough to know that she's almost never what others perceive her to be.

"Ha, you wish," she counters.

I finally reach the box hidden deep in my closet and pull it out. The wood is faded, but I can still make out my name engraved on the top. Maya crawls over and asks, "What's that?"

"A box," I answer.

She rolls her eyes. "I know that, Heehaw. I mean what's in it?"

I touch the edges with the tips of my fingers. "All the stuff my pa ever gave me."

She holds her hand out and looks at me expectantly. "May I?"

"Yeah," I reply after a moment and give it to her. She takes the lid off, inspects every item, and asks for the significance of each. Baseball signed by Omar Beltre: "I got that at my first baseball game. Pa bought what he called 'the lucky seats.' Obviously they were actually lucky." Cards: "When Pa came home after a long day at work, he and I would play card games for _hours._ He promised to make me a poker pro. Needless to say, he never did." Locket: "That's my favorite. You see, Pa loved preservation, especially that of memories. He said we should have a picture of the three of us-Ma, him, and me-inside." I was smiling at the locket, but it fades with that last sentence. "But it hurt too much to leave it in there."

I don't turn to her when she asks, "Does it hurt to keep it?"

I let out in a shaky breath, "Yeah."

"Good." When I look at her like she's crazy, she laughs. "You didn't let me finish. I said 'good' because I want it."

"Oh. You can have it, but do you want it before or after I take a picture of you and your ma?"

"This isn't for Mom and me."

"For you and Riley?"

"No, Huck-"

"You and Farkle?"

"Lucas!" she says, and puts her hands on my face to end my blabbing. I'm not sure if the physical contact or her saying my name makes me stop, but I do. "I want to have a picture of you and me."

I lean back slightly but make sure her hands stay where they are. "Me? Why me?"

She smiles softly. "Because you deserve to know that someone keeps you close to their heart."

I return her smile. "Thanks, Maya."

"No problem," she says, dropping her hands. I already miss the warmth on my cheeks. "Now, where's your camera?"

"It's in Ma's room." Neither of us make an effort to get up.

"Is it forbidden territory, or...?"

"Oh, right. Sorry," I say and offer my hand out to help her up. She accepts it, and I pull her to her feet. We head to Ma's room and find the fancy, professional camera sitting on her dresser. I pick it up and admit, "I have no idea how to use this."

"I do," Maya says, and grabs it from me. "Riley and I mess with hers all the time."

"Okay. Well, where do you want to go?"

"Just stand there and kiss my cheek."

I choke on nothing because that's the most random request I've ever received. "Wh-what?"

"I just thought it'd be fun," she says sheepishly. This is one of the rare times Maya blushes. "Riley and I do it all the time. Sorry. Is that too much?"

I see her eyes sparkling with something I like to think is hope and find it simple to answer, "No. I can do that."

She nods slowly, licking her lips, and tilts her head up to me. I bend down and press my lips softly to her rosy cheek, wrapping my arms around her. It's unnecessary, but I can feel her cheek lift with her smile. I hear a click, but I don't move. I wait for Maya to complain, but she doesn't, so I don't move.

"Lucas?" she whispers.

"Yeah?" I say against her skin.

"I don't want a relationship."

"Okay."

"But I want you to hold me like this, I want you to keep talking to me the way you do, and I want you to kiss me the way you did the first time."

My heart thumps, and I know she can feel it. "Okay," I say and slide my hands up to her face. She looks up at me to see if I'm truly fine with this, and I let just how much I care for her show because that was a confession, right? She basically told me she likes me? I fit my mouth to hers, and she presses herself closer to me. How this girl could become such a big part of me, I wonder. I bring my hands to her hair, intertwining my fingers in the strands, and she sighs. We break apart, and she breathes out, "Yeah. Like that." We stand there for a few moments before she asks, "Want to play cards now?"

I laugh. "Sure." I release her, and she leads me to her room. She sits on her carpet, but I'm too captivated by her paintings to join. Right now she only has one wall painted, though it's incomplete. She told me she's going to dedicate every wall to someone. This one is for Ma and Ms. Hart, her two mas. She painted a beautiful setting. A tall waterfall drops into a large lake with fertile grass surrounding it. Birds fly above, but the sky is not finished.

"Do you want to help me?" Maya asks, noticing my gawking.

I'm surprised, but I still grin. "Yeah, but after I beat you in Speed."

"You're on, Huckleberry," she says, and I shuffle the cards. After we grab our own decks, she counts off and says, "Go!" She moves as smoothly and quickly as her tongue, but although I'm rough, I move faster. "No!" she shrieks and laughs. I hit the stack right before she does, but she slams her hands down anyway. I lift our hands, engulfing mine in hers. She slips her fingers through the crevices so that our palms align. I stare at this contact then back at her, and she questions, "Do you want to paint now?"

I nod, dropping my head to her forehead, and warn, "I'm nowhere near as talented as you, though."

"It's not about being good. It's about expressing yourself, leaving your mark."

Maya pulls away and takes out all her supplies. I scoot closer to her, and she gives me a brush. Suddenly I'm terrified of ruining her art that I say, "I can just watch."

"Come on, Ranger Rick," she complains. "Just put something that reminds me of you. I don't care if it's only the corner. Just put _something."_

I would ask if she was sure, but she's so passionate and adamant. Instead I tentatively dip my brush in brown while she mixes different hues of blue and white. I finish my little doodle way before she finishes her sky, so I lie down and watch her. Her strokes are long and flowing, different shades blending together perfectly, and she sings under her breath. I feel like I'm with an angel gazing at a real sky even though there aren't any clouds yet. Maybe she won't even add them.

I stare mostly at her face as she works because as adorable her hands are and as mesmerizing as her art is, she's even more so. Maya's a masterpiece herself, and I'll be damned if I can't let myself appreciate someone as unique as her. I wrap a finger into her hair, careful not to distract her, and she glides with me following her movement to avoid tugging her down. I don't know how long I watch her, but when she finally pulls back, I'm surrounded by blue. She falls into me, and while I'm looking at her hard work, she laughs. She says, "Way to leave your mark, Sundance."

I grin and look down at my little cowboy hat lying in the light green grass. "Thanks. You, too."

After some time, she says, "I'm hungry. Grab me some grub, Cowboy."

"Well it's about time for dinner. Help me cook, would ya, Shortstack?"

Maya sighs dramatically. "Fine," she whines and sits up. She leaves the room and comes back when she realizes I didn't follow her. I start laughing so hard that I hold my stomach while she taps her foot impatiently, waiting for me to stop benig childish. I stand up, wipe my hands on my jeans, and go to the kitchen with her. I ask, "What are you in the mood for?"

"Pizza," she replies and literally searches for the ingredients. She takes out pepperoni when I remind her that we don't know how to make pizza. She snorts. "I said I was in the mood for pizza, not that we were making it."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Looking for the next best thing," she responds as she grabs the jar of tomato sauce. Then she tiptoes in attempt to reach the top cabinet but fails. "Damn it! I wanted to surprise you like those fucking magicians with the rabbits, but I can't even get the pasta." I smirk and comply to her implicit request to which she answers with a terse "thank you."

After we finish cooking with minimal damage to the kitchen and ourselves, we set the table with our best dishes because "we made something delicious goddamn it!" She carries the pot into the dining room with a triumphant grin, and I laugh. She sets it down haphazardly, popping the fallen pasta into her mouth. I get out of my seat to help her, but she puts her hand up to stop me. "I got this, Bucky McBoingBoing.

The entire time we eat is silent, but we make weird faces at each other. Ma would hate that my elbows are on the table, but I feel more intimate this way, closer to Maya somehow. And Maya's the only one here anyway.

When we finish our dinner, Maya asks, "Do you have _Sound of Music?"_

"Yeah I do. You want to watch it?"

"Why else would I ask, Heehaw?"

"Fair enough."

Right off the bat, I know that Maya knows the lyrics by heart. She sings and dances along to every song, and she eventually makes me join her. It feels liberating to be this wild and carefree, and although I'm well aware that Maya has had a life that taught her to be wary, I also notice she still finds a way to emanate joy and hope. Maybe that's why she seems so alive to me. She's three-dimensional.

Even when the movie end, we dance together. My arms encircle her waist, and her arms hang around my neck, and I say softly, "For someone who loves music, I've never heard you play your guitar."

"Would you like to?" she asks, eyes shut.

"I've been dying to since you brought it."

"Then let's go," she says, and laces our fingers together to lead me to her room. She sits on the floor, and I sit across from her as she takes out her guitar. There's a sticker on it, but it's faded, and Maya strums the strings and tunes them before playing.

 _Cast out to sea,_

 _Drifting with the tide,_

 _And no way of finding me._

 _Now that I'm free,_

 _Nothing but blue skies,_

 _Paradise in front of me._

I turn to her mural and wonder if that was what she was singing when she was painting that. The tune sounds familiar and not from the radio.

 _Tired of all these troubles, they've been wasting my time._

 _I don't wanna fight, gonna leave it behind._

 _Take your own fate; now I'm ready to fly._

 _I'm in the middle of starting over,_

 _In the middle of starting over._

She stops strumming, and I grin and say, "You should play more often."

She shrugs. "It's not my biggest hobby. I like painting more."

"That works, too."

She snickers. "I'm going to shower, Hopalong."

"Okay, have fun."

She leaves, and I head to my room to flop on my bed. Don't get me wrong; I love being happy, but no one told me how exhausting it would be. Apparently, I fall asleep because Maya shakes me awake and says, "Your turn, Huckleberry."

After I get out of the bathroom, I go back to my room to find Maya still there lying on her back on my mattress. I settle next to her, and she says, "I don't think I can sleep alone today, Lucas."

I listen and realize that the storm is still outside. "Then you don't have to. You can stay here. Just get under the blanket. It's cold."

She does as I tell her to, and I wrap my arms around her to make her warmer. She buries her face in my chest, slipping one of her legs in between mine. She hums contentedly, I kiss the top of her head as a good night, and we drift into a content sleep. Hopefully Ma will understand why I'm smiling with a girl in my bed.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I can't reply to my reviews. AGAIN. Somebody, fix this website. I mean, I still love this website. I can share my story with you guys, and you guys are amazing. Thank you, Anilovesbooks123 and Karkoolka, for your flattering compliments!**

 **I know what you're all thinking: "What?! She's posting two days in a row?!" Well, this chapter is short, and like I said in the previous chapter, I really want to move on to my next story idea. I still hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it!**

 **P. S. Did you guys know that Uriah Shelton (Uncle Josh) has a Texan accent? It makes my heart melt.**

Chapter Thirteen: Maya POV

 _Halloween_

This year, Riley insisted on hosting a Halloween party at her house. She went all out because when has Riley Matthews ever done anything halfheartedly? She has even gave every food and drink a "spooky name." The scariest title is literally the fruit punch with the obvious "Blood."

My friends and I coordinated our costumes. We're the Mystery gang, and I would be sad about the lack of the actual dog if seeing Farkle in a goatee wasn't so hilarious. He's Shaggy, Riley's Velma, I'm Daphne, and Lucas is Freddy. If Auggie wasn't ten and in the phases where he thinks his family always embarrasses him, I'm sure he would be Scooby Doo. We settled on making Brandon the dog because he doesn't care, though in all honesty, we thought he would just come in his typical leather vest and pants.

Topanga and Matthews are taking Auggie and Ava trick-or-treating, and they don't trust us teens to be alone, so they asked Josh to supervise us. Lucas stays next to me the entire time, glancing at Josh every now and then. I don't complain because I don't want to talk to him and go through the awkward conversation. I'm not pissed at him anymore, but that doesn't mean I jump at the chance to speak to him again.

"Riles," I say. "You don't need to stand by the door."

She whips her head around, biting her lip. "But..."

"C'mon, niece," Josh says. "Sit down with us."

She sighs, comes over, and plops down in between Farkle and me. I think Josh can sense the tension emanating off of Lucas because he sits as far way from him as possible. I snicker to myself.

Lucas and I lean against each other, but that's as much as we touch. We have a tacit agreement to not do PDA, and that's okay with the both of us. Sometimes I wonder if I should tell Riley, though. I mean, Brandon knows, but that's because he guessed.

"So, Uncle Josh," Riley says. "What are college parties like?"

He laughs. "You should know. You've been to one."

She blushes. "Oh. That's right."

I can't help but tease, "Riles is a wild one."

Lucas smirks. "Is that so?"

Farkle cackles and says, "I remember this story."

Lucas leans forward on his forearms. "Do tell."

"This girl here joined a sorority," I say, elbowing Riley who in turn pushes me away.

"She might even become the president," Farkle adds.

Lucas nods. "I can see that."

Josh avoided talking to Lucas for these past three hours, but now he's so shocked that he questions, "Really? You can?" He then recoils away from Lucas, but Lucas isn't rude. He can still speak to Josh without displaying his distaste for him. "Yeah. Riley's a friendly, passionate leader. Sororities seek that kind of person."

"I love you, too, Lucas," Riley says with a grin. Her tone holds no adoration, but I still surreptitiously turn to Farkle. He smiles at me, and I notice that he hasn't been jealous of Lucas these days.

The doorbell rings, and Riley sprints to answer. She opens the door to a Charlie Gardner dressed as a Charlie Brown. He used to have a crush on her, but they still remained simply good friends, so they hug in greeting. I call out, "Cheese Soufflé!"

"Hey, Maya," Charlie says as he approaches us. "Hey, everyone. Am I too early?"

"Nope," Farkle replies. "You're exactly on time."

"I need your punctuality," Josh jokes.

" _You_ need his punctuality?" I say, and everyone laughs. The truth is I'm always early, but everyone who doesn't know me assumes I'm fashionably late. I'm fashionable, but I'm not late.

. . .

Taking the words from Nick Carraway, the party is in full swing. Yogi and Darby make out in the corner, Sarah flirts with Charlie on the couch, most of us dance wherever there's open space. I even convinced Brandon to dance. He looks so ridiculous, moving in a Scooby Doo costume, but I'm not complaining. I laugh as Riley spins me while Lucas pulls me in. I grab Farkle's air guitar, running away with it, and he chases me. I pass by Josh who's texting by the stairs, not even paying attention to the party, but he looks up and smiles at me. I return it weakly and go on.

Farkle and I run back to our friends, and Lucas catches me. We sway, Farkle and Riley doing the same. Brandon holds himself as he moves next to us, and I reach my hand out for him, and the three of us swing together even though "Rock Bottom" is playing. Riley and I sing along because this is our favorite song. We might get a noise complaint, but that would be the first, so whatever.

. . .

While we're cleaning up the aftermath of a high school party, Josh comments, "You guys are so responsible."

"Really?" I ask without thinking. I'm just such a reckless teen that I had to question what's going inside that twenty-year-old's brain.

"Yep," he confirms. "You guys didn't have beer or sex."

"OhmyGod, is my room contaminated?" Riley exclaims.

"I meant the people you invited, niece. Not just you and your friends."

"Did you drink at our age?" Farkle asks, the omission of sex not escaping me.

"Yeah," Josh replies. "But at someone else's house."

"Maya, you haven't drunk in a while," Riley notes.

"Huh," I say, because I didn't notice. "I guess not. Go me."

"That's because she hasn't been to a party in a while, Riles," Farkle points out.

"Why not?" Lucas asks.

No one answers that because they know it all ties back to Josh. I only went to parties with him. Although I like how alcohol burns my throat, it never completely interested me. I just drank it with him.

"Oh," Lucas says.

As we continue cleaning in silence, I look at Josh. He steals glances at me, probably thinking what I think he's thinking. He's a Matthews, so he most likely wants to talk. But I can't do that. At least, not in front of everyone.

I start walking towards him, but Lucas pulls me back. His grip is strong as he asks me, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I answer after a second's contemplation. "I am."

"Okay," he says uncertainly and reluctantly releases me. "I'll be here if you need me."

I approach Josh and say, "Hey."

"Maya," he says. "Hey."

I gesture to the door. "Want to go up to the roof?"

"Yeah. Sure."

I exit the room without checking if he's following. I hold my head up high as I climb the stiars to the top and turn around abruptly. I stare at him, and he stares back at me, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I shift my weight and play with the locket around my neck.

"Who gave you that?" Josh asks, nodding towards my locket.

"Lucas," I respond and look away.

"Do you like him?"

I hear defense and vulnerability in his voice, but I still refuse to meet his eyes. "Why does it matter to you, Josh? i'm not your girlfriend anymore."

"And there are times I still wish you were," he says softly. "So it does matter to me."

"Well we both know why we can't be together," I snap.

"I'm sorry, Maya," he says, his tone betraying his desperation.

I grit my teeth and face him and his bloodshot eyes. "I'm not furious at you for what you did anymore, Josh, but you're an idiot for thinking I could possibly trust you again. I don't care if you feel guilty because you should. But it's all on you to forgive yourself and not make the same mistake again."

He comes closer to me and says, "I promise I won't."

I snatch my arm away when he tries to hold me. "That wasn't an invitation. That was a warning to not lose the next girl."

"You don't get it, do you, Maya? Every time I think I've moved on from you, another girl approaches me, and all I can think is that she's not you. And I want her to be _you."_

"If you care so much about me, why did you make out with another girl while we were dating?" I stomp my foot while glaring at him.

"I was drunk, and I know it's a stupid excuse, but I just want you to know that person who kissed that girl wasn't me."

I breathe out sharply because I can't take another round of this conversation. I whisper harshly, "You're going to get drunk again. It happens, and I don't blame you for that. But am I supposed to just accept the fact that you won't fight any girl that comes on to you? Am I supposed to let you cheat on me just because your mind is hazy?"

He doesn't have any words left to say, so he reaches out to me. "Don't touch me," I growl.

His hand pauses before continuing its trek, but then a deep voice says, "She told you not to touch her." I hear footsteps behind me, then I see a broad, tall figure in front of me. Although Lucas blocks most of my view, I can still see Josh brushing his hand through his hair. "Please, Lucas. Let me just talk to Maya alone."

"You already did, and she's obviously done with you."

Josh's eyes find me peeking under Lucas' arm. "Does she...do you hate me?"

"No," I answer barely loud enough. "No I don't hate you."

"See, Lucas?" Josh says, looking back at the boy in front of me. "Maya isn't done with me."

"But you stress me," I admit.

Josh seems helpless while Lucas says, "And when Maya's upset, I'm upset, so it becomes my concern, too."

"Please, Lucas," Josh practically begs. "At least let me try to convince her to let us be friends again. I miss her."

"She'll be ready on her own time."

"But-"

Lucas takes a step closer to Josh, and I realize he's taller, so he can loom over Josh. Lucas spits out his next sentences. "Listen to me carefully because I won't repeat myself. You forfeited your right to ask for favors from Maya. You gave yours and her relationship's fate to Maya. You cannot let your emotions pry out what you want from her, you cannot make her pity you, and you cannot make her feel ashamed or insecure or guilty."

Every word brought Lucas closer to Josh, so I finally wrap my small hand around his large wrist to jolt him out of his fury. He turns to me, and I would kiss him to calm him down if Josh wasn't watching us. Instead I bring his hands to my lips, and slowly his posture loosens from its threatening stance. He faces Josh again and says, "Maya just needs more time."

Josh turns to me. "You do?"

I nod. "Yeah. I do."

"Okay," he says, and as Lucas and I head back to Riley's apartment, he calls out, "I know you do."

I can't explain how, but I know he told me he knows I like Lucas Friar.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: It's summer break! Which means I had time to get out of my writer's block aha. I'm sorry to the Riarkle shippers who expected more build, but because this story is told in Maya's and Lucas' POV, I couldn't show the moments that were just between Riley and Farkle. I also apologize if I insult anyone's beliefs or religion.**

 **Thank you for the kind reviews!**

Chapter Fourteen: Lucas POV

 _Thanksgiving_

Ma hums to herself on the train on our way to Farkle's house. She must be so excited because it's been so long since she's spent Thanksgiving with people other than distant coworkers. I offered to hold the food she bought, but she clings on to the bags and refuses to let anyone touch them. I would take them from her if it weren't such a special day.

Ms. Hart hasn't stopped grinning, which makes Maya smile non-stop, too. I wonder how long it's been since they've celebrated a holiday together, but that's not a question I'm willing to ask when they're so happy.

I move my hand to cover Maya's on the pole. Without her smile faltering, she turns to me and says, "My family has never felt so complete."

. . .

"Hello," Farkle greets cheerfully after he opens the door. "Please come in."

He hugs every one of us as we enter his mansion, and we look around in awe. A white chandelier hangs over a glass table with plush, beige chairs. The windows are spotless, displaying a bright blue sky, and I can hear speakers playing a football game in the background. My gaze drops back to Farkle who shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Farkle," I say. "Your home is beautiful."

"Yeah, Farks," Maya agrees. "I would put this entire place in my pocket and steal it if I could."

"Would you share it with me?" I ask.

She smirks. "If you pay rent."

"Deal."

"Hey!" Farkle complains. "Then where would I live?"

"You can take my condominium," I offer.

"Don't I get a say?" Maya argues.

"What's there to debate about? We're getting a mansion."

"Maya!" Riley exclaims, tugging her best friend into a hug. "Lucas!" she adds and holds me as tightly as she hugged Maya. She is surprisingly strong for someone as thin as her.

When she pulls away, I take a look around the home once more. Auggie and Ava engage in an animated discussion, and the parents greet each other along with some older looking people. I'm about to ask who they are when Riley says, "They're my grandparents."

My eyebrows raise, and I say, "Oh, okay. I'll go introduce myself."

As I take a step forward, Riley pulls me back. "Are you sure you want to do that now?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" I turn to where her grandparents are and see Josh standing awkwardly by them. Then I shrug and reply, "I'd rather be seen as overprotective by Josh than rude by your grandparents."

Riley releases me, but then she, Maya, and Farkle follow me. The group notices us, and I hold my hand out. "Good evening, sir. Good evening, ma'am. My name is Lucas Friar, and I'm a friend of Riley."

Riley's grandpa turns to me with a smile similar to her pa's and shakes my hand. "Hello, Lucas. Call me Alan."

I purse my lips and play with my fingers, and Riley informs, "Grandpa, Lucas isn't comfortable with calling older people by their frist name."

Mr. Matthews laughs. "That's all right. I prefer hearing 'sir' anyway," he says, then winks.

After I figure I've been polite enough, and Riley's grandparent's attention shifts elsewhere, my friends and I head to Farkle's room. His house is so big that the sixe of his room doesn't surprise me, but when Riley says "look up," I feel overwhelmed in the best way possible. The ceiling is literally the Milky Way galaxy with white stars, gray meteors, purple space, and all the plants. I tilt my head as I ask, "Is that...?"

Riley grins. "Yep," she confirms. "It is."

Farkle stands beside her and slips his arm around her shoulders. They've been extremely comfortable with each other these days. "Pluto will always be a planet in my room," he says. Judging by the intimacy between Farkle and Riley, there's some story to this statement, but it's not too hard to guess what that tale is.

I look at Maya who scrutinizes the art above our heads. I head over to her and ask, "Is this another work done by Ms. Maya Hart?"

"Yeah," she replies without looking at me.

"It's amazing," I say, and she brings her eyes to mine, beaming. "I swear, Quick Draw," she teases. "If you say something cheesy next, I'm going to hit you."

"Why would I say something trite about such a unique girl?" I ask seriously.

She scowls, then scoffs, then smiles. "I would slap you if you weren't so sincere."

I tip an imaginary hat and say, "I'm a humble cowboy, ma'am."

She shudders, but I can still catch the mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Die, zombie, die!" we hear Riley shout, and we turn to where her voice came from. She's playing a video game while Farkle watches with fond amusement. To be honest, we're all doing that, but Maya appears slightly concerned. "Honey?" she says. "Is there something on your mind?"

"No," Riley answers candidly. She didn't show her signs earlier, so I believe her. "This game is just so addicting. GET OUT OF THE WAY, DEAD MAN. Do you guys want to play?"

"I have more controllers," Farkle informs, going to find them in the cabinet.

Maya smirks at me. "Ready to play to the death, Sundance?"

I frown. "We're on the same team, Shortstack."

"I can backstab you at any moment."

"Remind me why you're one of my best friends."

Instead of the teasing jab I expected, her eyes widen. "I am?"

I furrow my brow. "Yes. Why wouldn't you be?"

She shakes her head, shutting her eyes tightly. "Sorry. There's no reason. It's just Thanksgiving."

"Yes...?"

"I love you, Maya," Riley says suddenly, and I notice she paused the game.

"I love you, too, Riles," Maya responds, sinking into the cushions. Farkle puts an arm around Maya who leans her head in the crook of his neck, and he explains, "Maya and Thanksgiving don't get along."

I crouch in front of Maya and take her hands in mine. Her eyes flicker everywhere across my face, and I lean forward and softly press my lips to hers. She kisses me back, but despite having an audience, I don't pull away until I feel her smile. It takes time and a couple of breaks to catch our breath, but eventually, her the corner of her lips twitch upward. I pray she can see how much I love her when I look at her or talk to her or kiss her. She whispers, "You're such a Huckleberry." Then she turns to Farkle and Riley who stare at us with mouths agape. "You guys say a word about this, and I will shun you for a week." This is a big threat for the close-knit group, so they nod, zipping their lips shut. "Good," Maya says. "Now let's kill some bastards."

. . .

When we go back downstairs for dinner, Mr. Minkus says, "You kids sounded like you were having a lot of fun."

I laugh. "Let's just say you should never doubt Riley and Maya's friendship."

"I never do," Farkle says, baffled that I would suggest such a thing.

Maya smirks. "Who does?"

Riley hugs Maya from the side and asserts, "You can't have honey without peaches."

"All right," Mrs. Minkus says. "Sit down at the table, everyone."

"Mom?" Farkle says. "May the Matthews and Friar pray?"

"Of course," she answers. "Should we join hands? I'm sorry. I don't know how this works."

"It's your choice," Mr. Matthews says with a reassuring smile.

I feel a hand slide into mine, and I turn to Maya grinning at me. I return it, and as I look around, I see everyone participate. Mrs. Matthews asks, "Do you mind leading us, Layla?"

"Not at all," Ma replies and closes her eyes. We all follow suit. "We thank Thee, the Lord, for the food and the people around us. Amen."

"Amen," the rest of us repeat, and before we eat, Ms. Hart asks, "Should we say what we're thankful for?"

"Let's do that," Mr. Minkus says. "I don't give nearly enough praise."

"Okay, well, I suggested it, so I suppose I should start," Ms. Hart says and sits up, straightening her back. "I'm thankful for the Minkuses for allowing us to congregate at this beautiful home, and I'm forever in debt to the Matthews for being there for my daughter when I couldn't. I'm thankful for Farkle and Riley for their eternal loyalty to Maya and for Lucas and Layla for their generous offer. Without it, I would not be able to spend so much time with my daughter." Ms. Hart's eyes water. "And Maya, Babygirl, I'm so thankful to have you. You don't hold it against me that your father left, and not once have you judged me for not being a good mother to you. If I had to repeat this life with all its up and downs, I would do it again if that meant I would still be with you."

Maya pushes back her chair so quickly that I have to catch it, and she hurries to give her ma a bear hug. "I love you," she says, crying. "So, so much."

"I love you, too, Babygirl," Ms. Hart reciprocates, tears falling unashamedly.

The rest of the speeches are almost as heartfelt as the Harts with the parents apologizing for their wrongs and the children allowing themselves to admit how much they need their parents. I can't deny that I enjoyed watching Josh and Mr. Matthews display their softer sides. I needed to confirm that Josh wasn't a monster and that Mr. Matthews is still a human despite how frightening he can be.

When it's Farkle's turn, he starts off the way we all expect. "Well, I'm thankful for everyone here because none of you judge me and my quirks. I'm not normal, and I can be annoying, but you all still love me. Mom and Dad, you gave me everything I ever wanted, and I'm not just talking about the materialistic stuff. I'm happy to call you guys my parents. Lucas, you taught me determination and even got me on the Junior Varsity team! I still can't believe that, and I am forever grateful for your patience and help. Maya, you inspire me everyday with your perpetual strength, and I can count on you for advice. Thank you. And Riley." Farkle gazes at her with such warmth that the entire atmosphere of the room changes. "You're a gift. Your smile shines so bright that it obliterates any dark day; your laugh captivates me and makes me join you; and your spirit and faith are incomparable. No one comes close to how much confidence you give me."

He stands up suddenly and strides to Riley's parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Matthews, I ask for your permission to ask your daughter to be my girlfriend. I will do anything. I will even buy a cow if I have to! Just please say yes."

We all simply stare at that lanky boy with the giant guts, and I grow jealous of him. I wish I had enough courage to blurt my feelings for Maya, but even if I did, she isn't the type to appreciate broadcasted confessions. I glance at her at the same time she glances at me. She smirks, then looks away, and I admire her for a little longer before I hear Riley's grandpa say, "Cory, if you don't say yes to the boy, there's something wrong with you."

Mr. Matthews scowls, though there's a proud twinkle in his eyes. "Fine. You may, Farkle."

"Thank you," Farkle says and goes back to his seat. "Riley?"

"Yes?" she replies, beaming. She looks about ready to explode.

"May you be my girlfriend?"

She tackles Farkle in a hug and exclaims, "Yes!"

He laughs and says, "I love you, Riley."

Riley's hold on him tightens, and as a victim who experienced that earlier today, I wonder if he's choking. Not that he would mind. "I love you, too, Farkle." She pulls away and says, "I'm grateful for you because you've always believed in me, even when you shouldn't have." Then she turns to everyone at the table. "I'm grateful for my entire family for encouraging me to be me, and I'm thankful for Lucas for trusting and listening to me." Then she takes Maya's hand. "Peaches, you're always on my side, and I'm always on yours. That will never change, and I'm thankful for you because you're my constant."

Maya's smile could bring back the dead as she says, "And I'm thankful for you, Honey, for being someone I can see loving me forever. I'm thankful for Farkle for believing in my future and the Minkuses for giving birth to him." We all laugh at that. "I'm thankful for the Matthews for being my second family, and I'm grateful for my mom because she makes me her number one priority and for Layla because she provided a life where my mom doesn't have to do that." She looks up at me through her thick eyelashes and takes a deep breath. "And I'm grateful for you, Lucas, because ever since you arrived, my life has changed for the better. You make me have hope, which I used to think was for suckers, and maybe it still is, but I don't mind anymore."

I want to kiss her, especially with her staring at me like that, but I settle on intertwining our fingers. "I'm thankful for you, Maya Penelope Hart, for understanding me and my personal issues. Most people don't." I don't want to turn away, but I have other people to address. "I'm grateful for Riley and Farkle because they welcomed me with open arms and are just amazing people in general. I'm grateful for Ms. Hart for being a true friend to my ma and for Ma for still accepting me as her son despite all that I did back in Texas."

"You're a good guy, Lucas," Maya says, squeezing my hand. "Don't doubt that."

I smile and instinctively lean forward. "I won't when you don't."

She grins and says, "I'll try my best."

"I know. You're strong, and I'll always believe in you."

Her smile widens. "Happy Thanksgiving, Huckleberry."

"Happy Thanksgiving, Shortstack."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hey, lovelies! I am so sorry for this late post! I have been busy with my personal statement, driver's ed, summer school, and book . I hope this last chapter makes up for my absence!**

 **Speaking of this chapter being the final one, I can't believe it! This is my second multi-chapter story, and I've already grown so much as a writer. Thank you to everyone who followed, faved, reviewed, and stuck with me during this entire mess with my plot changes as I uncovered more interesting ideas and with my lack of knowledge about New York and personal issues. I love you all!**

Chapter Fifteen: Lucas POV

 _Winter Break_

Ma insisted that my friends and I go to the infamous ski lodge because Zay's visiting. We have to pick everyone up, and it's a long drive, so we all got up early, which Maya isn't particularly happy about. She keeps bumping into walls and muttering profanities as she tries to get ready.

"Babygirl," Ms. Hart says, "there's no time to put on make-up, so skip it for today."

Maya frowns but nods and continues to get ready. Just before she closes her door to change, I put my hand on the edge of the wood and say, "I think you have a natural glow."

She laughs weakly. "You're such a Huckleberry."

Now I frown. For the past two and a half weeks, Maya's been distancing herself from me. She still teases me, but she doesn't look me in the eye or join me when I Skype Zay. I asked her what I did wrong, but she always answers that I did nothing, and then she hides again. I talked about it with Ma, and she told me to give her space until she's ready to talk to me. Ms. Hart gave the same advice and added that "Maya gets like this sometimes." I respect Maya, but I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Because it hasn't been a year since I've had my license and it's snowing, Ma has to drive us to the lodge. I sit in the passenger seat while Maya sits in the back. She has a sketchbook on her lap and stares out the window, but I think it's an excuse not to look at me when I turn to look at her. Or I'm overreacting, which is probable for someone like me.

When we get to Riley's apartment, Ma says, "I'm going to stay in the car, if you kids don't mind."

"That's okay," I say. "We'll be right back."

Maya's and my footsteps echo as we walk up the staircase and then down the hallway to the Matthews. I keep my hands in my pocket, and Maya crosses her arms. I want to reach out to her, wanted to since the first time she rejected my touch, but I have to give her space. I whistle a tune Pappy Joe used to whistle, hoping for some kind of comment from Maya, but she offers none. I hide my dismay as I knock on the door and wait for a response.

Riley opens the door with a laugh and exclaims, "Hey, guys! I just need to grab one thing, then we can go."

"Sure," says Maya, and Riley shuts the door, leaving us in a tense silence. I saw Farkle in the room, so I don't understand why he couldn't come out here with us or why Riley didn't let us in.

I keep switching between putting my weight on my toes and the balls of my feet, and after a couple of minutes, I ask, "Why do you think we can't go inside?"

"I don't know, Hopalong," Maya replies. "Maybe she's just too busy to keep us company."

"But Farkle was inside."

She sighs. "Maybe she needs him to help her grab whatever it is she's getting."

Her eyes avoid mine, and I know that she knows what Riley's doing but refuses to tell me. I shake my head and say, "I don't think that's it."

She slouches against the door and mimics in a southern drawl. "I don't think that's it."

If she smirked, or if her eyes shone in mischief, I would have stopped pushing her. But she still looks anywhere but at me, keeping a neutral expression.

I've had it with her half-hearted teasing and her distance and me missing who we were, and I've had it her. I've had it with her because I just want to be with her, and it feels like she's somewhere far away, replacing herself with an apathetic, lifeless girl.

"Maya, why won't you smile to me anymore?"

"I do. I'm just not right now because I don't feel like it. I don't want to force it, Sundance."

My pulse quickens. "Then why won't you look at me?" I ask.

"What are you talking about, Ranger Rick? I am looking at you."

"You're not," I disagree and grab her face in my hands, brushing her hair out of her face with my thumbs. She gasps, and we both freeze. My heart races even faster as emotions flood in, washing away the anger that was originally there. Neither of us expected me to do this, and all I'm aware of is the soft lips that I noticed the first time I met her. I would kiss her, but she makes no move forward, so neither do I.

I close my eyes, unable to gaze into her watery ones. "What do you want me to do?" I whisper.

She's silent for a while, but I won't open my eyes. She can break me with a single glance, and I just can't take being shattered into a million pieces. I'm not strong enough, not capable enough to handle the potency of the Blonde Beauty in front of me.

"Stop," she responds, voice cracking. "I just want to stop."

I nod and take a step back, dejected. I would have preferred her yelling at me. At least then, my blood would be on fire instead of my heart. "Okay," I say softly and drop my hands to my sides. "We'll stop." I don't want to, but I'll stop for her.

Maya opens her mouth when the door does. Riley says with a grin, "Hey, guys. We're ready."

I do my best to smile back and notice her and Farkle looking at us sadly. I should have known they would eavesdrop. "Okay. My ma is out front."

We head to her car while Maya and Riley plan their personal adventure. I stuff my hands in my pockets, leading the group, and Farkle joins me. "Hey," he greets.

"Hi," I say.

Farkle never cared for small talk, so he skips the formalities and asks, "Why did you let her go without a fight?"

I put more distance between us and the girls. "How would I fight for her, Farkle? If I push her somewhere she doesn't want to go, she'll find her way out and never speak to me again."

He rolls his eyes. "She would still speak to you."

"Yes, but not in the way that I love." Talking about this feels weird, but I don't flinch when I say "love."

He studies my face. "Do you love her?"

We walk out of the building, and our breaths come out in puffs. In a single exhale, I respond, "Yes."

He stops and turns to me, taking a moment to look to his right at the girls. "Talk to Maya."

I groan in frustration because that's what I just _did_ , and hunch my back as I walk away, getting into the car before anyone else. I buckle myself to my seat, cross my arms in front of my chest, and mutter to myself, which Ma of course notices. "Lucas," she says.

"Yes, Ma?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'd rather not talk about it right now," I say, watching my friends get closer to the van.

She nods but purses her lips. "Okay. We'll talk about it when you come home."

I turn to her with a genuine smile. "Don't worry, Ma. I'll be fine. I promise I won't go crazy."

She laughs. "I'm not worried about that. I'm just worried about you. Don't forget you're a good kid, Lucas."

Then my friends get into the car and greet, "Good morning, Layla."

"Good morning," she replies. "Is everyone buckled up? We have to pick up Zay really soon."

"Yes," they respond, and I smile to myself. I say, "I've missed Zay. I can't wait to see him in the flesh."

Ma focuses on the road but directs a smile at me. "I'm glad I can finally physically meet your best friend."

I recline and close my eyes with memories of him and me in Texas. "I'm glad, too." My muscles relax, and I realize just how tired I am. "We all need a Zay in our lives."

. . .

I wake up with a startle. "We're here," Ma says, shaking me. "We should hurry, though. Zay should be coming to the front soon." As I quickly move to get out of my seat, Ma turns around and says to my friends in the back, "Can you kids stay in the car? We'll be right back."

"We can," Farkle says, and I note how he holds Riley's hand tenderly. I spare a glance at Maya and see her staring at their hands, seeming even more lost than this morning.

I turn to find Ma power-walking to the exit of Gate 17 and jog to catch up. She loops her arm into mine as a form of comfort for me and a form of support for her. She despises finding her way through crowds because of the bumping involved.

We stand in front of the mass of people for just a minute when I hear, "Lucas!"

I grin when I see my curly haired best friend waving emphatically at me. "Zay! Hurry up, so I can hug you, man."

He actually listens to me, pushing forward and dropping his bags when he stands in front of me. We pull each other into a bear hug, which is weird because I've never been so public about affection. When I let go of him, I ask, "How was your flight?"

Ma steps forward and interrupts, "Sorry, boys, but can we talk in the car? We should get to the lodge."

"Oh, yeah. No problem," I say. Then as we head back to the van, I gesture to Zay. "Ma, this is Zay, and Zay, this is Ma."

"Howdy, Ma," Zay says and shakes his own hand because we're in a rush. "It's very nice to meet you in person, and thanks for the ride and place to stay."

"No problem, Zay. And feel free to call me Layla."

"Layla," he repeats and smacks his lips. "I like it."

We reach the van, and Zay exclaims as he sticks his head inside, "So these are your friends! Howdy! I'm Zay, single and ready to mingle."

"Zay," I scold. "Get in the car. Farkle, do you mind stepping out so Zay can get in?"

"I don't mind," he replies and plants a kiss to Riley's forehead before jumping out.

"When did you break up with Vanessa?" Maya asks as Zay slides into his seat.

"A week ago, which you would've known if you still Skyped with Lucas and me," he responds in the light-hearted tone only he can master. "I felt abandoned."

Everyone's quiet after that. I turn around to look at Zay, and his closed lip smile tells me he knows I feel like Maya's building a wall between herself and me. I purse my lips and turn back around.

After Ma gets on the freeway, Maya asks, "Why did you?"

"Why did I feel abandoned?" Zay questions. Well, that's easy. You-"

"No. Why did you and Vanessa break up?"

"Oh. I didn't know it at first, but apparently, she's very superficial."

I snort, still staring ahead at the open gray sky. "I'm pretty sure you knew that somewhere inside of you."

"Maybe I did, man, but you know me. I'm a dreamer. I make girls into crushes and crushes into loves and loves into gods. I ain't proud of it; in fact, I hate it. I want somethin' real and pure, and by pure, I mean a love where we like each other for who we are and not who we want each other to be."

"So you mean like them," Maya says, gesticulating to Riley and Farkle.

"Yep, but they aren't who I was thinking of," Zay replies, and I turn around again. He glances between Maya and me, then leans forward in his seat, closer to her. "I still wanna tell you why I felt abandoned, Maya. Every night, I would look forward to seeing you because talking to you made me feel confident and prepared to take on the world. I could trust you with my secrets despite never meeting you in person, which is great, by the way. You're truly a Blonde Beauty like Luke here says." I glare at him, but he ignores me. "Then suddenly, you were gone. Lucas didn't have an explanation, so I didn't know the reason either. I wondered what happened to the fiery girl that somehow managed to become such a good friend of mine. I felt as though you left me, but then it stopped when I found out I could visit you and Lucas and your other friends, because that meant you could tell me why you disappeared. So care to tell me, Maya? I would very much appreciate it."

She fidgets in her seat and keeps brushing her hair out of her face, and I can't take watching her face flush, can't take listening to her stammer, so I say to Zay sternly, "She doesn't have to tell you." Then I say to her, voice soft, "You don't have to... We don't need to know."

Then I turn around before she reacts. I don't want to see the apathy that I can remember too well or, even worse, the relief that comes with liberation.

Because if she's relieved, she's determined to never let me know why she suddenly shut me out of her life.

And I want to believe that I can still know Maya Penelope Hart.

. . .

Before Ma leaves, she opens her window and makes me lean in. She hugs me, whispering into my ear, "Good luck, my boy."

I watch as she drives away and hate myself for wanting to go back home and stare at my blank blue walls. I've been looking forward to this trip for almost four weeks, but with all that's happened, I want to just tell my friends, "Screw you. I'm out of here." It's dramatic, but it's just what I need to get rid of my dread and anger.

My friends and I walk into the lobby, dragging our suitcases behind us. The air is warm, and the atmosphere is cozy. I feel like we're in a snow globe where everything is perfect and cheerful and eternal with couples and families passing by, talking and laughing about things I'll never know. But that doesn't bother me because I only wish for them to keep those grins plastered on their faces.

Then I glance at Maya, and the snow globe shakes. My world tilts and blurs until the only constant is the frown on her face. I internally slap myself upside the head for not stopping Zay's monologue when I should have. I just wanted to know her reaction, but a selfish excuse does not justify the situation I put her in. I want to apologize, want to close this space between us, but I don't. I'm a coward who pretends he's a selfless lover when in reality, I'm not.

I walk up to the front desk, and the brunette standing there greets me with a broad, friendly grin. "Welcome. Name?"

"Lucas Friar," I respond, attempting to appear equally as kind. My mind is everywhere but here.

She doesn't seem offended and looks through the document on the computer to her right. Then she turns around, grabs two room keys, and hands them to me. "Here you go. I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say, and head back to my friends. Riley and Farkle sit on the couch, holding hands, and Maya sits on the armrest, talking and switching between staring at the floor and at their intertwined fingers. Zay looks up from his phone to me, grins, and walks up to me. I'm about to ask why he didn't join me when he steals the keys from my hand. "I don't know 'bout you, man," he says. "But I'm ready to put my stuff down and ski."

I smile back. "Me, too."

Zay twists at his waist and calls out, "Yo, Maya."

Maya turns around, and Zay throws a key to her. "We're gonna go up," he informs, and walks away without waiting for a response. I can only think to follow him.

"Don't you think you're being kind of rude?" I ask as we walk up the stairs.

"Nope," he replies, and I can hear a smirk in his voice. "I know I'm being very rude."

"What's the purpose of it?"

He doesn't answer until we get to our room. I have my back to him as he says, "Dude, she needs to know how much you care. It's not right for her to just stop whatever you guys had without an explanation, especially when you love her."

I sigh and fall on to the soft bed face first. I don't know how to tell him I didn't push her to explain when I had the chance. I don't know how to tell him I'm also at fault.

Luckily I don't have to because Farkle enters the room then. "Really, Pretty Boy?"

"What," I mumble into the plush cover at the same time Zay says the same thing.

Farkle ignores him. "You know why she's in a bad mood?"

"Because I grabbed her face and almost kissed her?" The blanket muffles my voice. But apparently not enough.

Two hands flip me over. Zay and Farkle stand over me, the former with an amused smirk and the latter with wide eyes. Farkle asks, "Is that what that silence was?" and Zay cracks up.

I sigh and adjust myself so that I'm sitting with my face in my palms, but I don't reply. Farkle says, "You almost had her. You know that, right? If you just asked her again..."

Zay stops laughing. "Wait-you talked to her about this?" Again, I don't reply, and he shakes my shoulders. "Really, Luke? The opportunity was right in front of you, and you didn't take it? Are you an idiot? You mope about this girl, yet you-"

"What am I supposed to do?" I shout, looking up at them. When they both stiffen, I continue more quietly, "What am I supposed to do when the girl I love fears loving and being loved? What am I supposed to do when I can't fight for her because I feel like I may push her further away? What am I supposed to do when all I want is something she won't give? I can't ask her for such a big favor."

"It's not a favor if she loves you, too," Zay counters, crossing his arms.

"And she does," Farkle adds.

I look between the two of them and argue, "Even if she does, she's terrified. And I don't want her to be scared of me."

"Then help her become brave enough to take the risk," Farkle advises. "Make her believe in you."

Zay nods. "What the genius said."

I rub a hand over my face. "Can we just go ski now?"

Riley bursts through the door then and exclaims, "Let's go skiing!" She looks so chubby with her layers that it's kind of adorable. Maya has to constantly keep her upright because she keeps tripping.

"Riley?" Farkle says gently and puts his hands on her arms, taking Maya's job. "I don't think you will need this many coats."

Riley's grin drops. "But what if I fall?"

"I think they may be the reason you fall. Here. I know what to do." Farkle takes off two thick coats and wraps his scarf up to her nose.

Riley pops her mouth above the scarf and says, "But won't you feel cold?"

"I'll be warm as long as my ball of sunshine is with me," Farkle replies, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

Riley adjusts to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. "You're the best."

"Anything for milady."

Maya pretends to gag and says, "Now that that's over, can we go skiing?"

. . .

At the top of the hill, the world stretches far in front of me and behind me. The sky is gray, yet somehow clear, and I feel like I'm in a cloud. Maybe that's why the scenery confuses me, fogs up my mind.

Riley teaches Zay and me how to ski because we've never done it before, but I'm not listening. I don't even hear what Farkle adds when I probably should because they seem like the type to know what not to do. No matter how lovable they are, they're also clumsy.

But I'm not listening because I'm watching Maya adjust her cap and goggles, wondering why she isn't teaching us. She's more graceful and lucid, so she would probably help more than Riley and Farkle. I understand she's avoiding me, but does she really not care if Zay or me gets hurt?

I don't want to be in a cloud anymore, so I just leave. Screw common sense. I'm getting away from the peak of this hill and closer to the ground, a place I'm familiar with.

"Lucas!" Riley calls out as I glide down on the grayish white snow. I don't turn around; I don't stop. I just go, go, go. I stab my stick into the ground to propel me forward, hammering away my suffocating thoughts with it. I push faster and faster and find it almost as alleviating as riding Tombstone. I take slow, deep breaths and feel my sense come alive. I look around and see every movement every person makes. I am nowhere and everywhere all at once.

At the bottom of the hill, I turn my skis at a small angle to come to a halt. I look up and see Riley and Farkle hold hands while coming down in front of Maya and Zay. Zay seems like he's chattering her ear off like he does with everyone, but Maya frowns. She usually enjoys hearing what he has to say, so I guess he's pressuring her again. I would tell him to be quiet, but she's perfectly capable of making him shut up, so I head back to the Gondola. At least, that's what I say to myself to justify my lack of response.

"Lucas! Wait up!" I hear Riley shout. I purse my lips and turn around, deciding there would be more consequences if I ignored her. When she catches up to me, she asks, "Mind if I join you?"

Yes. "Not at all."

"I'm going to pretend I don't know you well and go with you anyway."

She doesn't speak again until we sit, which I expected. Riley's gift has two parts: her smile and her persistence. "Lucas?"

"Yes?" I reply, but still stare out the window. The world gets smaller and smaller, an irony in my opinion because the world seems gigantic at the top of the hill.

"Do you love Maya?"

"Yes," I answer easily. I have nothing to hide. Having something to hide means you're either uncertain or ashamed, and I'm neither.

She pauses. "I mean love-love."

I turn to her and look directly into her eyes. "I know what you mean, Riley."

She tilts her head as if she doubts me. "Then why don't you fight for her?"

At that, I abruptly turn my head and stare ahead. On the airplane ride to New York, I felt like the world was embracing me, but right now, I'm suffocating. "That's all I've been hearing today, that same freaking question. You all think it's beneficial for Maya and me if I tell her I love her, but did you ever stop to think about the repercussions? She would run away from me, and I don't want her to slip away from me. It's selfish, but I want her to stay no matter the cost."

"But if you just make her trust you, then she would be happy. You would be happy."

"Don't you see, Riley?" I shout, my voice echoing for miles, and I'm glad I'm in the air. "That would make me more selfish. I would make her trust me so that I would be happy, and don't you dare say that I would do it for her," I add when Riley opens her mouth. "Because I want her to be happy so I can be happy."

We're almost at the acme now. "Lucas," she says forcefully, bringing my eyes back to her. She locks her gaze with mine so that I can't turn away, and I can tell she understands my unspoken dilemma. "Being a good person doesn't have to be separate from what you want. Sometimes they work together, and this is _especially_ true for love. Love is when two selfish desires come together to create a bond so special and strong that it can be easily mistakened as ultimate selflessness. But love isn't sacrifice, Lucas. It's hope."

We hop off the Gondola then, but she doesn't go down, so neither do I. We look out at everyone else as they find their way down. Some venture alone; some do not. Then Riley turns back to me, so I face her. "You know how I chose Farkle?"

I shrug, then shake my head. "No."

"Well, at first, I asked myself the trite question: who would I save if you were both about to fall off a cliff? But it didn't help. Loving people in unique ways doesn't make one person more important than the other. So instead I asked myself why I would save you." She takes a deep breath and continues, "I would save you because it was the right thing to do, not because I couldn't live without you."

Riley slowly inches forward, but she seems like she has more to say, so I move only a little, too. "Of course, I still love you, Lucas."

I laugh, making me feel ten times lighter. "I know," I say. "I love you, too, Riles."

"Enough to think about what I said?"

I nod. "Yeah," I reply honestly, because I am already thinking about what she told me. I trust Riley, and I believe she means every word she says. I also believe she's smarter and wiser than most people give her credit for. But despite all her sagacious reflection, that still doesn't change my dubious mindset.

"Good. Wanna race?" Riley asks, already in position.

I grin. Maybe I can find my answer when my mind is clear, and Lord knows my mind will be open to any possibility when I'm cruising down the incline. "You're on," I answer, and off we go.

. . .

Dinner comes around, and I still haven't made a decision.

On one hand, Riley is basically Maya's sister and only wants what's best for her. Taking her word seems like a reasonable choice, and she knows I would never intentionally do something to hurt Maya.

But that's what's holding me back. By confronting Maya about what's going on between us, doesn't that put her at risk of losing control? And doesn't acknowledging this possibility make the consequence (whatever that may be) intentional?

Our food arrives, and my friends and I eat our steaming dinner while Zay asks them questions with his mouth full.

"So how many times have you guys been here?" he asks, the crumb by the corner of his mouth moving as he speaks.

"Three," Maya answers, bringing her fork to her mouth.

Farkle reaches out to wipe some sauce from Riley's chin. "This would be our fourth time," he informs.

Riley runs a napkin over mouth and smiles nostalgically at her two best friends. "This is the first time we've come with only friends."

Zay grunts in approval. "Man, I am digging this vibe," he says, then raises his glass of water. "To coincidences."

"What do you mean?" I ask him. I don't toast for no reason or for reasons I am not aware of.

He grins at me. "You met great people, Luke. They bring out the best of each other, and now that you're a part of their group, you'll be the best Lucas you can be." Then he elbows me lightly. "Who was always amazing to begin with," he adds, and I smile.

"Then to fate," Riley announces, holding up her cup. "Because coincidences are just the universe's way of saying hi."

"Aw, we're important enough for the universe to pay attention to us," Maya says, and we all laugh and clink our glasses.

. . .

We're sitting by the fire, talking and laughing, when a worker comes by and informs us of the karaoke party in the next room. We all immediately look at Maya who wears the best poker face I've ever seen. Before any of us open our mouths, she says bluntly, "No."

Riley and Farkle start to protest, but Maya holds her hand up, palm facing them. "No," she repeats more firmly.

"But Maya," Riley whines.

"You know, Maya," Zay says, and he's smiling that smirk I never trust. "I can make Lucas go up with you."

Her muscles tense, and she says too quickly, "That won't change anything."

Needless to admit, I'm offended that she could dismiss me so easily. I'm offended enough to get up without a word and head to the party. I don't look back because I know my friends will follow me, which I confirm when I hear Zay snickering behind me.

I walk up to the DJ and ask, "May I go up after her?" I gesture to the vivacious teen on the stage.

"Yeah, sure," he replies, and hands me the book of songs. "Which one do you want to sing?"

I skim through the lists, find the perfect one, and tell him. He quirks a brow at me and asks, "Are you sure?"

I chuckle. "Yeah."

When the girl finishes her performance and exits the stage, the DJ announces, "Up next, we have Lucas Friar, singing 'Why Don't You Love Me?'"

I ignore the scattered laughter and stand on the stage, looking out at the small audience. "Before I start, I have something to say." My eyes land on the only person on my mind right now. "Ms. Hart! I heard that you can sing."

She glares at me, but my gaze doesn't falter. I made my decision. I have a plan. After a brief staring contest, she says, "I can warble a tune."

"Then grab a microphone and join me."

She stands still for a moment, and I think maybe I underestimated her, maybe she doesn't care about appearing afraid in front of a crowd. Then she walks purposefully to the stage, taking a mic from the DJ along the way. "Fine. Let's do this."

The music begins, and I hate how I have to start, but I somehow find the courage to focus all my attention on Maya and reveal myself in front of a room of strangers.

 _See I can't wake up._

 _I'm living a nightmare_

 _That keeps playing over again._

 _I'm locked in a room,_

 _So hung up on you,_

 _And you're cool with just being friends._

Wake me up, Maya. I don't want to feel this way anymore.

 _Left on the sidelines,_

 _Stuck at a red light,_

 _Waiting for my time,_

 _And I can't see._

I get closer to Maya, but she turns her back away from me. She doesn't even look at me when it's her part.

 _See I'm just too scared_

 _To tell you the truth_

 _'Cause my heart-it can't take anymore._

 _Broken and bruised,_

 _Longing for you,_

 _And I don't know what I'm waiting for._

What are you waiting for, Maya? I do all I can to make you feel comfortable, safe, and I don't know what options I have left.

In the Bridge, she finally turns to me, albeit hesitantly. But it counts for something.

 _Why don't you give me a reason?_

 _Please tell me the truth._

 _You know that I'll keep bleeding_

 _Till I'm with you..._

"Why don't you love me?" I ask her.

"Kiss me," she whispers.

"I can feel your heart tonight. It's killing me."

Then together: "Why don't you love me? Touch me. Tell me I'm your everything, the air you breathe. Why don't you love me? Baby? Open up your heart tonight 'cause I could be all that you need."

We're so close that I can only see her lightning blue eyes, and I slide my hand down her arm. "Why don't you love me?" I ask. "Why don't you love me?" I repeat, her voice overlapping mine. "Why don't you love me? Why don't you love me?" Then me by myself again: "Why don't you love me?"

We search each other's eyes until we hear a cheer and loud applause, and when we receive a standing ovation, she pulls away and runs off the stage. "Maya!" I say, and chase after her.

"Don't let her get away, Lucas!" Riley shouts.

"There you go, Pretty Boy!" Farkle yells.

"The Blonde Beauty and Pretty Boy," Zay mumbles to himself as I rush by, and I know what he's thinking. It works. Maya and I work.

I sprint up the stairs, taking two at a time, heading to Maya's room. Right before I stand in front of her door, she shuts the door and locks it.

"Maya, please," I say, knocking. "Please let me in."

No response. "Please. I just want to talk to you."

I hear nothing, and my knuckles stop hitting the door. I lean my forehead against the wood and close my eyes as I shudder. "Please, Maya. I just want to talk to you."

But that's not all I want, is it? "I just want to talk to you and tell you my secrets and listen to you and comfort you," I say, and fall to my knees, ignoring the pain from the jolt of my head. "I want to hold you tightly and kiss you and make you laugh even though you really just want to cry," I continue, and rest all my weight on my hands because I'm just suddenly so exhausted. All my energy I had while skiing and singing is gone. "I want to be there for you through the ups and the downs, no matter how hellish, because I want to be with you for the rest of my life. It's selfish and a lot to ask for, but it's true, and maybe that's not a bad thing."

When I still sense no movement, I go on. "You know, from the first day I saw you, I knew you were one-of-a-kind. I knew you were mischievous and playful, but being around you, seeing how much more there was to you that made you truly unique - your unwavering loyalty, your broken yet kind heart - I just fell in love with you."

Then I cry because I feel so stupid, talking to someone who isn't willing to change her mind, especially after the way I cornered her. I cry silently because she doesn't deserve my burden, doesn't deserve all the troubles I could cause and have caused her. Yet I can't leave this spot.

And after some time of sitting there and crying like an idiot, the door unlocks and opens. I look up at a red-faced Maya but don't make any move to reach out for her. She stares down at me, lip quivering, and says in an unsteady voice, "I don't want to love you." Then she goes back inside, and I get up to enter the room.

After I lock the door, I turn around and see her with face in her hands, sitting on the bed farthest from me. I head over to her and kneel in front of her. "Maya," I say, wanting desperately to move her hands away but knowing she would fight me more if I did. "Why don't you want to love me?"

"You're too good," she sputters. I furrow my brow in confusion, but I don't have to ask what she means because she answers my unspoken question. "You're too good, so you'll always stay and be sincere, and I'll get terrified and leave you." She uncovers her face, and I hate seeing tears falling down her round, rosy cheeks. "And you're too good to be left, Lucas. You're too, too good."

All this time I was afraid she thought I would abandon her when the opposite was true. In my efforts to quell her fears, I only made her more scared.

"Maya Penelope Hart, you're so beautiful," I say, wiping as many tears as I can away with the pad of my thumb and resting my hand on her cheek. "You're so beautiful that I can never see a day where I could let you go. I wouldn't let you run."

She finally looks into my eyes. After three long weeks, she finally looks into my eyes, and I can't decipher what she's thinking until she settles on certainty. Then she flings herself into my arms and kisses me hard, tasting like the hot cocoa we drank by the fire. I tighten my arms around her, feeling her curves, trailing my fingers over her spine, and I feel awake and alive. All I can think is that I'm in love with this porcelain girl, this girl who petrifies me with her fragility and beauty, and kissing her is a gift because her lips are soft and smooth and Maya.

Maya is everything I never knew I wanted and everything I feared I needed.

But I'm not afraid of her anymore.

. . .

We lie on her bed, her head on my chest, when all the tears run dry and all the oxygen seems to be going everywhere except our lungs. I rub circles on her waist, finding the skin under her shirt. We breathe in sync, and after a time I didn't care to keep track of, Maya says, "Huckleberry?"

"Yes, Shortstack?" I answer, kissing her forehead and smiling at the confident way she says my nickname.

"I love you," she says, looking up at me with wide honest eyes.

I lean down for a long, slow kiss. "I love you, too."

. . .

The next morning (our friends thought it would be better to leave us alone for the rest of the night), Maya and I walk downstairs to the dining room hand-in-hand. Riley is the first to see us, and she squeals. "Yay, Lucas and Peaches!"

Farkle smiles and rests his head on Riley's head. "I'm happy for you guys," he says when we're within earshot.

"And the ship is sailing," Zay says with a giant grin and bumps his fist with mine. "About damn time, buddy."

I laugh. "Shut up, Zay."

"Maya and Lucas sitting in a tree," Riley singsongs.

Now Maya laughs and lightly swats her best friend's arm. "Shut up."

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G," the others join. "First comes love..."

I smile at their little song and add my own twist.

"Then comes hope."


End file.
